Drawn To A Different Light
by reyclou
Summary: Team Sheppard finds an alternate Atlantis in desperate times, but soon learns appearances are not always as they seem.
1. Flight

_Author's Note: The name for this story was kidnapped from the song "Another World" by Brian May, which was a loose inspiration for this whole story. Feel free to play it in the background during the emotional bits!_

* * *

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to A Different Light  
By Reyclou**

**Chapter 01 - "Flight"**

Dead emptiness stifled the sound of straining sub-light engines as the hulking grey form of a space cruiser raged through layers of atmosphere, pulling away from the vast grey ocean below. The_ Daedalus_, looked almost turtle-like in appearance, but it was far from crawling. Blue energy fields enveloped the ship, holding back the friction fire of the atmosphere as the ship fled into the heavens. Golden orbs of light—Ancient _drones_—screamed like mini-meteors after the ship. The _Daedalus_ wiggled and swayed in its climb, trying to lose the threat, but the missiles weaved and banked in unison.

Unable to outmaneuver the drones, the ship picked up speed, trying to outrun them. The desperate motion failed. Ancient drones slammed into the thinning shields, sending ripples of blue bright across the ship's expanse.

With a resounding boom of fire against steel, a brilliant flash of light spat sparks over the Daedalus crew as the force rocked the ship's bridge, faint smoke pouring from blackened circuit covers. Wordlessly, green clad airmen scrambled for their fire repellant equipment, ducking away from the residual bursts of electric fury. Commander Caldwell lurched involuntarily as his ship reeled from a strike to starboard. He kept a fierce eye on the frantic widescreen before him, grunting almost imperceptibly as his hands instinctively clutched the arms of his wide command chair. Catching himself, he rolled with the motion._ Pilot's first rule: learn when to fight the G's and when to flow with them. One folly in this and they scrape your remains out of the cabin with a spatula._

Judging by the ever increasing blips popping across the sensor display, he didn't think they'd need the spatula. This attack could very well grind them into dust.

He turned to the blonde airman stationed to his right. "Captain, where are my shields?" He questioned coolly.

"Down to thirty percent, Sir." Captain Kleinman responded hurriedly, eyes twitching over his screen. His hands flitted across his controls, desperate to replenish the depleting shields. Caldwell wouldn't admit it in front of the crew, but they both knew the _Daedalus_ wasn't meant for this kind of battle against this kind of technology. The outpost on Earth looked like a water pistol compared to the floating battle-fortress of Atlantis, a paragon of war and science-craft melded into one seamless snowflake of soaring architecture.

A nod of his head turned Caldwell's attention away from the captain to the young woman at the navigation center to his left. "As soon as we get the okay from the engine room, plot a course out of this system," he ordered, eyeing the threat warnings multiplying across the view screens. The woman nodded her head in acceptance as Caldwell flicked on his internal com. "We're losing ground fast. Do we have everyone yet?"

The pleasant, overeducated voice of an Asgard ally, Hermiod, replied over the com system. "I successfully beamed aboard several groups of your team left within the city," he explained in his slow rhythm. "However, the Atlantis shield has been activated, we cannot, as yet, bypass it."

Caldwell expected that answer, but it didn't ease his conscience any to hear. What men and women of his crew who had not made it aboard the ship when they fled the city would be left in enemy hands. For now. The thought made his gut run cold, but the colonel would not sacrifice his whole crew for the impossible hope of saving a few scattered members. "We've done what we can," he replied, trying not to growl. He flicked another switch. "Security teams, lock up anyone not wearing a flight suit. We'll sort them out when we get back to Earth and hope this galaxy is still in tact when we return," Caldwell stopped himself, picturing what would happen when he reported the failure of the Atlantis Expedition to the Pentagon, not to mention the loss of a costly line item. "If we return," he corrected. "If they resist, shoot to kill," he added, signaling Engineering again before anyone could refute his orders. No one tried. "Hermiod, I need those engines."

The Asgard sounded aggravatingly disinterested in his task. "The hyperdrive engines have taken several glancing blows. The ship itself may not…"

"Sir!" Klienman's call drowned out Hermiod's reply. The captain motioned to the sensor display as several dots blips of light moved dangerously close to the ship. He risked a glance to his own panel. "Shield strength waning!"

"Hermiod, we need those engines, NOW!" the colonel pressed.

Outside, scattered fires of golden lights dove Hell bent on the ship, their screams silenced in the freezing night. The _Daedalus_ arced into a final, desperate roll and far above the forsaken city, a bright light broke fast and fierce, the explosion deafened by the oppressive silence of space.


	2. Confined

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn To A Different Light  
By Reyclou**

**Chapter 02 - "Confined"  
**

At 0800 hours, Rodney contentedly sipped his third cup of coffee as he skimmed over the mission reports of Team Lorne's first contact with an alien village the scientist had only conceived of in his dreams. The Major himself described a matrilineal society mainly composed of young women who were open to trade and, as luck would have it, had something worth trading for—forgotten Ancient technology hidden deep within their mountainous territory. Rodney had volunteered to personally follow up on the mission long before Lorne had suggested their flagship team return with a negotiator to open diplomatic channels.

That should have been his first clue.

Regardless, Elizabeth agreed, the team marched off to prepare and, by 1100 hours, Evan Lorne was a dead man.

Despite his inherent distaste for violence, at least violent action directed toward his person, Rodney's years of studying hazardous chemical compounds and dangerous machinery had inspired more than a few inventive scenarios to end a man's life—or at least scare him into next week.

Lorne's team reported the village currently experienced unseasonably warm temperatures around 26 degrees. On the Celsius scale, that was still bikini weather. But somewhere between the down-lined parka Zelenka handed him in the Gaterium and the icy burst of slicing white dagger-dust that met him as he stepped out of the event horizon, McKay came to the sudden realization that the damn Americans had forgotten to convert the temperature from Fahrenheit _yet again_, which meant the climate was not so much beach-worthy as it was well below freezing.

And snowing.

Actually, not so much snowing as it was spiraling head first into a veritable white out—and as the temperatures dropped, Lorne's chances of living to see the next sunrise dropped with them.

That is, if Rodney ever made it back to Atlantis.

Standing in a shallow entrance to a cave system buried in the local mountainside, Rodney watched as a fierce storm raged across the frozen landscape. Factoring in the wind chill, Rodney reasoned the current temperature fell somewhere around "certain death". He shivered. The alcove in the rock offered poor protection from the cold, but at least it blunted the piercing wind and held back the swirling powder. This kind of weather could easily drop inches of snow by the hour, and Rodney had to find himself grateful for at least this little bit of protection. The storm charged the mountain with all force, but broke on the stone and fell before him in great sheets of ice and sand-like snowfall. With visibility that poor and Rodney pacing like a madman to work up some heat, several bulking sub-human forms stepped in from the storm and nearly trampled him before he could make out their mass against the dismal grey and white. Quickly, he squirmed and ducked out of their way as two of the native villagers struggled through the curtain of frozen fury.

Cloaked in thick layers of fur and wool, the natives resembled bulking snow men, or rather, snow women. The two of them loomed over him, their figures lost beneath piles of stiff hairs and rough fabrics. Their faces wrapped in scarves and crude hoods, Rodney couldn't even make out if the women were young or old, fair skinned or dark, hot or—well—not. Right now, he was siding with not.

Two forms marched between them, one standing a head and shoulders taller than the others. With a frustrated groan, Rodney surmised that eleven months in the Antarctic had taught Lt. Col. John Sheppard more than a middle-America born flyboy should ever know about surviving the frozen wasteland. Wrapped in micro-fleece and a military issue poncho, John stalked through the cold chaos like it were nothing more than a light summer rain. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying his romp through the snowy unknown, slowing only to help his companion along.

Dressed in her own fluffy winter uniform, Elizabeth, too, had shown she was no stranger to the cold. She had, after all, led the expedition in the Antarctic, both literally and politically, since its development long before Dr. Jackson had decrypted the Atlantis Gate address. However, she had not been ready to lead delicate, interplanetary negotiations alongside a military officer whose first instinct upon arriving in the fresh snowdrift was to make _snow angels_ outside their host's towering stone shelters.

"Colonel?" Rodney called out over the howl of the wind, surprised to find the cold hadn't frozen his lips shut.

"McKay?" returned the airman's drawl, but the wind stole his voice away almost as soon as he spoke. He had to shout to be heard above the howl. "I thought you'd be waiting inside," he teased.

"Oh, you know me," replied the scientist, drawing his arms tighter around himself for warmth. It didn't work. He had to turn his face away from the wind to keep from swallowing drifts of snow. "Just admiring the _lovely_ weather."

"It's good to see you, Rodney," Elizabeth eased, loosing the scarf around her face just enough to let the words ring out. He could see where the snow and wind had bitten at her ivory skin, leaving it pink and raw. She came just short of huddling up to the colonel, letting the broad expanse of the man's form block the slicing wind. Sadly, McKay caught himself doing nearly the same thing as the small group gathered in the enclave.

"You are lucky you came when you did," one of the natives replied as the group shuffled out of the storm. Already, she began loosing her facial wraps in anticipation of the warmer climate within the mountain walls. "It is unlikely the storms will stay so mild for much longer."

She _had _to be joking.

"Yes. Lucky. Of course," Rodney shivered, then motioned to the cave entrance. "Shall we?"

With a sly nod, the woman led the party into the cave. McKay ducked after her quickly, with John, Elizabeth, and their other newfound friend following close behind. John had to walk half hunched over to keep from grating his head against the walls. He too disrobed as they walked, removing first his rounded sunglasses, followed by a thick knit cap and a balaclava. While it made for a very uncomfortable stroll, the small passageway did cut down on the cold. Aided by the fires of the odd but precious torch light, there was light and warmth enough to make their way through. By the time they'd marched far enough away from the alcove that they could no longer hear the whistling wind, he had freed his dark hair, face, and hands, tucking the spare accessories away in one of sixteen or eighteen snapping pockets.

Rodney had to admit that, as they progressed through the cave, the air grew increasingly warmer. Never so much that he could do without his coat, but at least enough that he could unzip it.

He still would have preferred the bikinis.

"So how're things coming on your end," the colonel asked as Rodney tugged at his own cap. "Anything?"

"Yes and no," the scientist responded, shoving the cap into a pocket. He felt the tingly sensation of short hair strands popping up, if not standing at straight attention, celebrating their freedom from the knit cap. Rodney had a feeling he'd accidentally stolen a page out of Sheppard's book of Unruly Hair Care.

Except John had more of it. Bastard.

"The energy field we detected is buried deep within the cave system," he explained. "And when I say buried I mean that literally."

Nodding again, the woman added, "We have been boring deeper into the mountain to extend our living space, but it has come at a price."

Rodney swerved out of the way of a menacing stalactite. John grumbled something under his breath and followed suit, bending uncomfortably. "Some time ago they suffered a cave in that cut their living facilities in this system in half," the Canadian explained. "However, the subsequent renovations revealed the existence of a sealed chamber deep within the mountain range."

"And that's where our field is coming from?" John questioned. Rodney nodded.

"And you don't believe our friends here could have constructed it?" Elizabeth asked, trying to find a kind way to note the natives decidedly unsophisticated level of technology.

"No, not unless they can walk through solid rock," Rodney glanced at the hulking woman in front of him and had to reconsider the statement. "We've had to conduct most of the excavation on the spot, and we've only just cleared an access path."

John interrupted in a curious tone. "I assume by 'we' you mean…?"

"Ronon."

"Ah," the colonel sighed, as if he'd known Rodney's reply before the scientist offered it. "It makes sense now."

Rodney's brow furrowed with indignation. His eyes rolled up to glare at the ceiling and he braced himself for a digging comment. "What makes sense?"

John shrugged nonchalantly. "Why you were out front."

"Colonel," Elizabeth warned, green eyes daring the taller man to test her patience, though she knew as well as he did how Rodney could miraculously escape heavy labor duties by inventing some pressing emergency.

"Actually I was _waiting_ for Sheppard to show up," sniffed the scientist as the group shuffled on through the winding passageways. From time to time they came across a fork or split in the caverns, often enough that Rodney did not envy the thought of navigating the cave system without a guide. From some they heard the sounds of children playing, from others wafted the smell of simmering foods and sparse cook fires. The grumble in his gut gave away the sudden hunger in Rodney's stomach.

"Rodney?" the colonel pressed, and the scientist realized he'd neglected to answer.

"Well, neither Teyla nor Ronon have the Gene," he confessed. "And I can't concentrate on manipulating Ancient technology _and_ log anomalies into my laptop at the same time—at least not without another cup of coffee. Not to mention we don't even have a clue what it's supposed to do. We don't know if it's a weapon, a booby trap, a transport station-"

John slid him a suspicious glance from the corner of his eye. "Rodney, are you saying you're afraid to turn it on?"

"No…" the smaller man straightened, buffing out his chest as if recoiling from an insult. Then slumped. "Yes," he waved a hand in front of his face, batting the comment aside. "Look, I just need to borrow his genes," Rodney insisted in a terse tone, then clenched his eyes shut as Elizabeth pursed her lips to stifle a giggle. John rolled his eyes to hide reddening cheeks. "That came out _so_ wrong."

oOo

The team heard the grunts and echoes of tumbling rock long before they reached the excavation site where a very uncomfortable Satedan giant worked to loosen small boulders and pulled cracked rock chunks away from a dim archway. Despite the cool chill in the air, Ronon worked in his usual worn tunic, his own newly issued cold weather gear lay in a pile, where they appeared to have been thrown in frustration. The wall to which he'd been assigned looked like a cannonball had knocked straight through it. John smiled. He made a frighteningly efficient machine, especially when it came to rampant destruction.

Teyla stood in the archway, warily gazing into the darkness beyond, aided only by the light of her P-90. She brightened considerably when she caught site of the arriving team.

" Elizabeth! Colonel!" She greeted, half jogging to meet them. It seemed odd to John to see the small woman in the bulky bright white gear. It leant her a strange, angelic quality, serving as a sharp contrast to the deadly weapon she casually held in her off hand. "How went the negotiations?"

Elizabeth smiled and motioned toward their escort. "Just fine, Teyla. Our friends here are just as eager to learn about the Ancients as we are."

"That is good news," the Athosian replied, then, with a glance to the ex-Runner she supplied, "Ronon was just finishing. We were about to head in," Ronon straightened, or rather, set aside his last armful of rock and sort of rose to a hunched attention beside Teyla. Even bowing over to keep from banging his head, he still dwarfed the woman. He stood even taller than Sheppard, and therefore felt even less suited to the close quarters.

Elizabeth turned to their escort and nodded politely, "With your permission?"

The looming woman consented with a light bow of her own and stepped out of the way, "Of course."

Smiling, Rodney ushered toward the entrance with his hands, urging the women ahead of him, "After you."

Wordlessly, Elizabeth and Teyla raised a collective eyebrow, then turned to John, who glared at Rodney before stepping forward.

"What?" Rodney whined as the colonel slumped past him, but no one returned the question.

At first the path before John seemed to lead into total darkness but as he guided his own light into the room, he caught a glimmer of something on the far wall. Intrigued, he stepped forward, into the stone seal now broken after how many thousands of years of sentry.

No sooner had he crossed the threshold but the room blinked to life, breaking the spell of darkness and welcoming him in. John and his team were stunned for a moment as the light revealed a round—or rather multi-faceted—chamber large enough for the full team to gather in and then some. Embedded in each wall were tall fields of smooth, reflective glass—like a mirrored dressing room. John glanced at his own reflection in one, and was surprised to see that, given the angles of the mirrors, he could see himself from nearly every angle—his views blocked only by the presence of his other teammates. Above him the ceiling stretched imposingly high, but below him he saw a strikingly familiar design; a platform of interlocking panels, much like he had seen under the Chair devices in both Atlantis and Antarctica, lit up beneath him.

He tapped at the blue flooring with the tip of his boot. "Uh, Rodney, What happens now?"

Slightly confused, though clearly awed by their situation, he had nothing more to say but the truth, "I'm not quite sure."

"Not quite _sure_?"

"Okay, I don't _know_… yet. Surely there has to be some kind of input device. Maybe it's concealed behind one of these mirrors or something." Rodney stepped off the platform to inspect one of the mirror-like fields. He traced its lines but found nothing promising.

John smirked sarcastically. "Right, you do that, Rodney. I'll just stand here and see if I can't dream up an instruction booklet."

Ignoring the colonel's comment, Rodney made for the doorway. "My laptop is out by Ronon's stuff. Lemme go grab it really quick and we'll…"

A faint blast and sudden rumble, like something crashing into the side of the mountain, cut Rodney's statement short.

The colonel's eyes snapped upwards, "What the hell was that?"

Instantaneously, the native woman leapt from the platform and sped for the door, where she was met by a younger woman, swathed in furs. Ice and snow still clung to her clothes and her face was reddened not with the bite of the wind but with the warmth of exertion.

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is," Rodney whimpered, eyes wide with fright.

The young woman spoke quickly to the older woman in hushed tones.

Elizabeth straightened with surprise. "My god, Wraith!" She whispered, not for fear of her own life, but for those of their newfound allies. "It has to be the Wraith."

"Are they really safe down here?" Teyla questioned softly, watching intently as the other woman gave further orders to a second messenger.

"It seems to have worked well enough for them in the past," Elizabeth returned, but she did not seem entirely assured herself.

Groaning, Rodney turned wide eyes on the colonel and the diplomat. "Yes, but that was before we cranked up the Ancient powder room back here. The energy field had to have spiked with we turned the power on. We might as well hang a sign out front that says 'Hey, we're hiding _right here_.'"

Brown curls flipped through the air as Elizabeth whirled on the colonel. "John, can you shut it off?" She pressed.

"I can try," John obediently closed his eyes in concentration. He thought about the power pulsing through the device. Imagined it as a cord plugged into an outlet. He imagined taking that chord and yanking it with all his strength.

Another blast and rumble rocked the mountainside, causing Rodney to stumble. He clawed at the mirrored fields for support. Frightened, he clenched his eyes shut and wished he were anywhere but here.

Rodney heard the sound of rock exploding, felt chips of stone pelt his face as he clung to the ancient panel. A bright white light burst in the room, warmed them, then blanketed them with a sudden, all-encompassing darkness.


	3. Breakthrough

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn To a Different Light  
By Reyclou**

**Chapter 03 - 'Breakthrough"**

John jerked awake when he felt hands on his ankles. Gasping to life, he instinctively kicked at the invasion, only to feel swift hands forcing the flow of motion off into empty space rather than flesh and bone.

"Sheppard!" a deep voice growled. Recognizing Ronon's voice, John let his lower body flop to the ground unceremoniously and without further protest. His hands searched the freezing floor for his flashlight. His bare hand grasped its round shaft and flicked it to life, lighting the man in front of him.

Ronon winced and turned away, lifting his hands to block the beaming bright.

"Sorry," John stated sheepishly and turned the light away. "You all right?"

Ronon didn't really answer, but rather let out a deep grunt and something that resembled a nod. Still, John glanced over the Satedan. Nothing looked broken, though John doubted the runner would admit it even if he were spitting up blood. In fact, John was half convinced the man _enjoyed_ pain. It was some sort of rite with him. Regardless, the colonel accepted the nod and moved on. As the adrenaline of the sudden awakening faded with each easing breath, he felt the insufferable cold of the cave pressing in on him. With no power and no fires, warmth had fled the caves, leaving only cold stillness in its wake. Breathing became painful. John watched as his breaths burst into the night in swirling tendrils and, loosing interest in their cloudy puffs, ran the light over the faceted cavern. His light fell first on Teyla, who half knelt; half lay in the dim and darkness. She, too, shielded her eyes from the light, but she did not turn away. Her dark hair looked quite mussed and she nursed a bruise over her eye, but she looked no worse for the wear. Indeed, she offered a soft nod of her own to answer his unspoken question. He acknowledged her with a dip of his head and continued his survey.

The light then fell on Elizabeth, who laid no more than an arm span away. Her eyes closed and face pale in slumber. Concerned, John moved to her side. He gently patted her leg in effort to rouse her.

"Elizabeth?" he called softly, tapping again at her leg, then her shoulder. "Hey!"

The woman stirred and uttered a very unfeminine groan, then, realizing she was not alone, suddenly pulled herself to her elbows, eyes wide with shock and confusion. She looked to him as if she had never seen him before.

"Elizabeth? You okay?" John questioned, but a distinct shuffling cut off Elizabeth's attempt at a reply. John looked up, flicking his light to attention.

Rodney braced and cringed as the light hit his eye. It caught him off guard and he slumped against the dead wall. "Oww!" he whined, somewhere between crouching and standing, his shoulders pressed against the wall for support. "Watch where you're pointing that thing!"

John lifted an unsympathetic eyebrow, but slowly moved the light. He rose to his feet then, glancing over the woman to make sure nothing vital looked too terribly damaged, then offered her a hand up. She took it, thanking him softly.

"What happened?" John questioned, directing the light back toward the scientist.

"I don't know," Rodney replied, patting himself down as if he expected to find an exposed rib. He found none, but still turned panicked blue eyes on the Colonel. "I was hoping you could tell me. What did you do?"

The colonel shrugged, examining the now darkened architecture with a skeptical eye. "I kicked the plug—at least I _think_ I did."

Again, Rodney rolled his eyes. This time his he exaggerated the movement. "Oh. Great. _Excellent _job."

"It's not like I had a lot of options, _Rodney_." John defended, frustrated.

Gaining her own bearings as the others spoke, the Athosian found her own weapon in the darkness. Feeling the cool metal, she felt for the light, testing to ensure it had not shattered in the confusion. It winked to life when she touched it, but a new challenge silenced her relief. As she lifted the weapon into her hands, the light fell on the doorway from which the team had entered the chamber.

"Colonel!" she notified. "It gets worse."

Frowning, the young Colonel turned at her call. He followed her line of sight to the doorway, or what had been the doorway. Only pebbles, boulders and solid bedrock met his inspection. The doorway, it appeared, had now sealed itself in the stone.

"Crap," he grunted, stepping forward to examine the blocked doorway, as if by mere feel he could move the stones away. "Whatever that blast was must have sealed up this cavern. I'm guessing the others must have made it out before it caved," The colonel caught sight of his watch as he moved. It was the frightening number that caught his attention. "Damn, it's been almost seven hours

"_Hours?_" Rodney squealed as Teyla wobbled to her feet. "Oh, that's just great!" Rodney spat, turning slightly pink from both the cold and the exertion. "We're _sealed_ in a mountainous cavern with no escape, no power, and now a dwindling _air supply_?"

John sighed in that way that hinted he was a step ahead of the scientist. "No one said there was no escape."

The scientist threw up his hand in annoyance. "It's a _mountain_, Colonel. It took the better part of a day just to dig in here!" he protested, but the taller man paid little attention. Instead, John threaded a hand under his poncho and rifled through the pockets of his vest. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"I still have some C4 in my ordinance," returned the colonel.

Blue eyes went wide with alarm. Indeed, the team seemed to echo his sentiment, if on a more subtle level. Elizabeth, Teyla and Ronon turned toward their friend and commander. "Whoa! Wait! Bad Idea!" Rodney blurted. "We don't know how thick that slide is, not to mention you run the risk of bringing the rest of the cave down on us."

"It's not a cave, Rodney. It's an Ancient _Base_," John growled. "Or hadn't you figured that out yet?"

Elizabeth seemed just as surprised as Rodney at the colonel's statement. Glancing around at the strange, now darkened panels, she stepped forward. "Base? But this is the only Lantean architecture we've come across."

"The only _obvious_ architecture," John corrected, bending to inspect the cracks, crevasses, and veins in the rock.

Teyla tilted her head, intrigued by the observation. "Are you saying the Ancients hid a secret base deep within a mountain as a measure of concealment?"

John glanced up to share a look with his Earthborn teammates.

"Stargate Command back home is built into a mountain," Rodney admitted then spotted the charge the airman had already attached to the wall. "Colonel!"

"It's a _very small_ earth-shattering explosion, Rodney." He waved the team away from him with his spare hand. "Now move back and take cover," he warned.

Ronon and Teyla firmly escorted the protesting doctor away as the colonel worked at setting the explosives. Elizabeth followed obediently, but warily.

The four turned their back and crouched at the far wall. As instructed, they cupped their ears to deafen the blast. John, double checking his careful work, deemed it passable stepped away, flattening himself against the wall just to the side of the device.

A heartbeat passed.

The dark room filled with a flash light—and a resounding screech of explosives. For a brief moment warmth, if not burning heat, enveloped them. Dust filled the air and the team buried their faces in their clothes to keep from breathing in the dust. Smoke and debris coated them. As the sound and shock faded the team rose to their feet.

Teyla turned her light on the archway, but the dust blocked her light. She could not make out forms in the dust, only a gray haze and dim shadows. "Colonel!" she called. "Colonel, are you all right?"

A moment passed, but he did not come forward.

Another heartbeat passed and smoky light beamed from the archway.

"Yeah," he replied, unshaken by the blast. "Come on, let's get out of here. Maybe we can find out what happened while we were out."

"Lets hope the settlement has held together," Elizabeth added. "I'd hate to think we came this far just to see them get wiped out."

"Same here," John agreed. "Besides, it'll be hell finding our way out of here without them."

"Waitaminute," Rodney coughed, frantically waving his way through the smoke and debris. He could barely open his eyes and seemed to favor speaking through the fabric of his shirt, muffling his voice. "If this is an Ancient base, there could be a ZedPM here."

"Later," the colonel rushed. The chaos had cleared enough that the team could at least make out each other's forms in the dim. "We've been out of contact with Atlantis for too long. Our main objectives are to see if there are any survivors, and then contact Atlantis and let them know we're okay—which means we have to get to the gate. We can send a team back with equipment and supplies."

Rodney looked to Elizabeth for support, but the woman remained in firm support of the colonel. "Rodney, the important thing here is staying alive, and protecting our allies. We will send someone back, you have my word."

Diffused, Rodney's shoulders slumped in defeat.

-0-

Ronon's things lay buried under the rubble Sheppard had blown out of the door, the runner insistent he had little need for them. Sheppard half considered making their retrieval an order, but couldn't figure how he would get the giant to wear the gear against his wishes and so the subject dropped. Rodney calculated the likelihood of instantaneous frostbite in the given conditions.

Ronon growled and the scientist backed off.

Team Sheppard made a tedious search of the cave system, careful to retread their tracks, ensuring that they kept their strange ancient prison as an anchor point, establishing new ones as necessary. Silently, they had all hoped to find a crowd of the stalwart snow-women just outside the chamber, but after an hour of solid searching, they had discovered nothing more than frozen, forgotten bits of a buried society. Baskets tossed to the side spilled their icy contents. Weapons lay where missing warriors had dropped them. Cold pots sat over long extinguished cook fires. Everywhere, it seemed life had stilled.

Despite their desire to explore the remains of the settlement, relief did not begin to describe the sensation that washed over the team as they found daylight breaking through at the end of a long, stout tunnel. The alcove led out to a snow swept, mountainous landscape. The winds had died, as had the fierce flurry. Now sunlight glanced off brilliant, unmarred snow fields. It appeared a startling contrast to the dark, dismal death of the caves. John had to fish his sunglasses out of his vest just to survey the area. To John, the terrain looked promising. True, it wasn't ideal, but the temperature had risen dramatically since they first arrived. The gate was only a short hike away – they could make good time in this weather and, so long as they kept moving, Ronon could probably even keep all his toes.

He looked back on his team. "If the average storms around here are at all like the one we just went through, we can't chance another one moving in. Without a guide we'd be wandering the mountainside forever. I say we head back to the gate. With any luck, We'll be back in Atlantis within an hour—we can send a search team back with the proper gear, see if the locals aren't just holed up in another system."

No one seemed excited about the idea—least of all Elizabeth—but no one saw the point in arguing.

Again, the colonel had been right. With him and Teyla taking point, picking solid paths through the territory, the team did cover a good amount of ground quite quickly. Ignoring the climate, the hike was almost pleasant—if a scrambling, stumbling trek over a frozen mountainside could be considered pleasant. McKay complained, obstinate that they would have been home safe and warm by now if the flyboy had only opted to bring the Jumper along. The colonel turned to point out the rocky terrain and poor landing conditions, but paused in mid-snark. He caught only a quick flash of movement out of the corner of his eye before he pulled Teyla to the ground.

A Wraith stunner blast soared over their heads.

"Damnit," he grunted as the rest of the team dove for the cover of a small ridge. "I really hate these guys," he narrowed a glare on the scientist. "Rodney, a little warning next time?"

"Warning?" he balked. "What, me?"

"You were _supposed_ to keep an eye on the Life Signs Detector!"

"I was," he fumbled for the white unit, turning its screen to face the colonel. "There's nothing!" Sheppard and his team spared glances to verify that, indeed, the detector showed no signs of life but their own.

"Obviously something is wrong with it, Rodney, since someone is _shooting_ at us!"

"Automated defenses?" Rodney offered, stubbornly refusing to believe that a ten-thousand year old unit would suddenly take that moment to go on the fritz.

"No, I saw a human… like… _thing,_" John insisted. Another blast sailed a little too close to home and the team ducked. The blast passed harmlessly, but kicked up enough snow upon impact that they had to briefly shield their eyes. All except John, who lapsed into command. "Teyla! Take Elizabeth and Rodney. The gate is just over that ridge," he explained, motioning to a sharp hill of rock a stone at the end of a wide crevasse. If their attackers kept to their current angle, the stone would shield their escape. "Stay down, stay out of sight," he instructed. Teyla nodded, accepting the command.

"What about you?" Elizabeth asked, her steely voice sharp in the cold air. She didn't like to leave people behind any more than he did.

John hated it when she called him on his hero complex. "Ronon and I will hold them off, then we'll follow you. Now go!"

Teyla tugged for her to follow, guiding the hunched woman away. Rodney took a moment to slip his nine millimeter from its holster. Checking to make sure the gun was ready, he gave a solemn glance to the colonel and the hunched giant.

"Go!" John barked and the scientist scrambled away.

-0-

It wasn't that he was a coward, Rodney assured himself as he scrambled along the snowy ridge. He was, in fact, quite brave when the enemy was small enough. But, when it came to an inter-species shootout, it didn't take a military strategist to realize Rodney McKay couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Solar Systems he could do—barns, not a chance. Needless to say, he took no joy in the fact that he, once again, ran for his life as icky, creepy aliens stormed him from behind.

Except there wasn't any actual storming. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure they were even chasing him. Still, he didn't feel it wise to stop and check. Normal Wraith tactics usually involved subduing their prey with overwhelming force, yet he had not seen a single pale haired warrior yet. Unusual, yet nearly as soon as he considered this prospect, a new barrage of blue beams rained from the higher mountainside. The sounds of automatic gunfire echoed over the mountain and Rodney thanked whatever pasted for the Fates in the Pegasus galaxy that John Sheppard's home town had, apparently, known many a holy barn.

The scientist glanced a short ways ahead. Elizabeth and Teyla made good progress. As promised, the crevasse led over the ridge, where a familiar circle rose from the rocky snowfall, and the two women picked and scurried their way to the Ancient ring. Cloaked in their puffy white garments, the two blended well with the surroundings and Rodney found them hard to follow against the snow. Within moments they would reach the DHD.

Where they would be sitting ducks for the precious seconds it took to dial the Gate.

Rodney thought quickly. There had to be a way to ensure Elizabeth and Teyla had time enough to dial Atlantis without getting neutralized by the knock out beams.

Blue streaks danced their way toward the DHD. Rodney was running out of time and chance did not favor the two women.

With that in mind, Rodney did the second thing that came to mind.

He aimed his hand gun and fired back.

Three shots into his clip, the beams swung away from the DHD. Seven shots into the clip, Rodney thought this whole duck and fire thing wasn't so hard. By the ninth shot the event horizon burst to life. By the eleventh shot, Elizabeth and Teyla were hundreds of light years away in a city on an ocean.

By the thirteenth shot, Rodney's shoulder was numb and he neared unconsciousness. As darkness approached, he felt him arms wrench and his rear slide over rock and ice. Voices called out to each other. Two, both deep, almost soothing save for the force of their tone.

"This is definitely not how I wanted to end these negotiations!" John hissed as he and Ronon dragged the somewhat pudgy scientist toward the gleaming blue only a few running steps away.

It seemed the trio was home free when one last blast took Ronon's leg. The giant went down, taking the scientist with him. John lurched, paused, and bent to assist, not bothering to strategize as to how he would drag two grown men across a galaxy. He reached for the runner, but Ronon deftly avoided his grip and, with the last of his strength, managed a mighty shove that threw the colonel the last few feet and into the event horizon.

Ronon slumped as John disappeared into the ring's light. He did not fight when gruff, angry hands pulled him away, but rather descended into a darkness from which he did not expect to return.

-0-

John sprawled as he tumbled through the gate, hitting the Gate room floor like a sack of rocks. He tumbled with the force, sparing his head and letting the shoulders take the force of the fall. Shifting his weight to his arm, he half threw himself back to his feet, ready to shout orders that would lead to the immediate dispatch of a recovery team, but the scene before him threw him off guard.

Elizabeth and Teyla lay unconscious at his feet. Marines and airman alike formed a huge sentry around the gate, all guns aimed on Sheppard alone. The control room staff stood at rapt attention from their positions high above. Atop the lighted staircase stood a woman dressed in supple Athosian leather, but she was no Athosian. The sharp green eyes of Dr. Elizabeth Weir stared back at him, but John had no chance for a double take. A Marine stationed near the foot of the steps squeezed his hand stunner and John involuntarily dropped into numb and dreamless slumber.


	4. Awakening

**Drawn to a Different Light  
****By Reyclou**

**Chapter Four: Awakening**

A subtle but persistent twinge somewhere at the edge of his subconscious woke John from his dreamless void—a determined pulse that whispered warnings from the dark places of his mind. While he took pride in his mastery of the masculine art of sincere slumber—that is to say, the ability to sleep through a train wreck—he could not rest when that damnable part of his ever-watchful spirit called him elsewhere. It was that soft blaring that kept him up on desert-scented nights during leave, and a quiet shriek of black plumes against his azure sky that woke him early one hellish Tuesday.

With that searing memory, his eyelids cracked open. He caught a blur of light, soft as moonbeams and nearly as subtle. Like matched magnets his eye slits fought to snap back together, pulling him back toward sleep. He let them, catching only a faint impression of a slender form with brunette hair hovering somewhere nearby. For all he knew, it could have been a dream, could have been real. It wasn't until the sensible part of his brain kicked in that John realized the last three years of his life had been a harsh ratio of both. He heard a woman absently humming a strong, heroic tune. In his haze of waking, words drifted in his mind and he found he knew the tune well.

"…_Souls of men, dreaming of skies to conquer_

_Gave us wings ever to soar…"_

As his lips begged to form the words John came to a sudden realization—he couldn't move a single muscle, not even to speak. Helpless moments of soundless, restrained panic passed. John shot commands to his left arm, right leg, pinkie fingers—anything—but he could not force a single appendage to move or a single joint to bend. He was, in effect, frozen inside his own body. Terrified, he felt the surrounding darkness, the surrounding slumber, edge closer, calling him back to sleep. He resisted the pull with the sole fear that if he did not wake up right now, someone would die. His mind flitted back to rumbling ice, tremors, beams of searing bright.

And Rodney McKay.

Frustrated, he sucked in a sharp breath, and concentrated all his efforts on moving a single arm.

With an aggravated grunt, John's arm sprang into the air, swinging its dead weight. Relieved to find life in his limbs, John realized too late that he still lacked basic motor control and, thus, smacked his hand into the bed's raised guard rail hard enough to send the hollow metal ringing. John, however, felt nothing, his dumb limb completely ignorant of the fact he had just rammed into unforgiving steel. As John lay motionless, lucidity dawned on him, wiping away his mental cobwebs. The darkness ebbed away. His mind cleared. His head pulsed and throbbed and the back of his head felt tender against the pillow, but he could think now, and with conscious thought came memories and the knowledge that he had, unfortunately, been here before—time and again, in fact—numbed into complete paralysis by a Wraith stunner.

Pinpricks gnawed at his fingertips, scattering up his arms in a sudden frenzy of knifing glee as sleeping limbs screamed their protests. Needles danced on his feet in a prelude to tingling torment. Up his limbs the pricking raced, setting his body afire with a thousand tiny shocks and a storm of stabbing and throbbing. Here and there his body tasted the world around him and he barreled through cycles of ice and flames as his tactile senses flared back to life. He felt heat on his hands as someone caressed them, stroking gently, yet even the kindest pats felt like the clutch of an iron maiden, each movement of a finger like the kiss of a knife. He would have cursed them out had his mouth obeyed.

Then, almost as quick as it began, the fire died, his limbs cooled and, in a rush of adrenaline and the shaky sounds of his own breath, John felt alive again, his body now fully awake, fully recovered from his sudden sleep. With the waking torment past, his eyes slid open.

The humming stopped as the woman leaned over him. He saw her now, a brunette with long, curling locks and soft freckles in places only the sun could kiss.

"John?" She asked, studying him with worried green eyes and the way her brow furrowed reminded him of someone somewhere. It took a few heartbeats and a double-blink before he recognized Dr. Elizabeth Weir.

Except it wasn't.

She had the same gleaming eyes, the same skin, the same kindly smile, but her hair fell—or rather, cascaded—well past her shoulders. What's more, she was wearing leather – like, _all over—_and John had to wonder if he'd even woken up at all because, last he checked, career dress didn't require slaughtered clothes.

Not that he was complaining—exactly—it was all just so, well, _new_.

"It _is_ John, isn't it?" Elizabeth asked, taking his silence as a sign of confusion.

John cocked an eyebrow. "Elizabeth?," he croaked unsurely, finding his throat a little parched and rough. He and Elizabeth occupied a small room that, though it seemed blatantly Lantean, did not resemble the Infirmary he had grown to know so well. It felt too small, too barren. Staring at this vision of Elizabeth, he wondered how long he had been out for her to have changed so much, or how she could have forgotten his name. Then she smiled one of her demure smiles and he realized she hadn't changed at all.

"Not quite," she replied, subtly squeezing his hand before letting it drop back to his side. He absently clenched and unclenched the freed hand. "I _am_ Dr. Elizabeth Weir, but whether I'm the Elizabeth _you_ know..." she trailed off and hunched her shoulders in that way that said she wasn't sure how to finish.

John was still processing the hair. "…Huh?"

She turned and said something over her shoulder and, a moment later, a short man with a scruffy chin and thin, sprawling hair stepped into his vision. He studied a tablet as he quietly saddled up next to the woman. John brightened a little in recognition. "Radek, buddy!" he greeted.

Wide-eyed, the small man stiffened, looking first to Elizabeth, then back to John. "H-hello," he returned, then paused as if unsure what sort of salutation to use. After a heartbeat of nervous eye contact, he tacked on a rushed "Major Sheppard," and then dove back into his studies before John could reply. John opened his mouth to correct the man, but something about Radek's nervous demeanor kept him from doing so. Maybe he was afraid the tiny man would die of embarrassment.

"How's the nephew doing?" he added instead, trying to ease the tension. Radek's mouth hung slightly agape for a moment before he managed a response. "Fine," he whispered, backing away at a glance from Elizabeth. "Th-thank you," he stuttered, before absently handing the tablet to the woman.

Elizabeth flashed John her own nervous smile and straightened herself in her seat, taking the tablet from the scientist. "Let me see if I can phrase this in a different way," she said, folding her hands around the computer. "Several hours ago, our control room team received an IDC through an incoming wormhole, plus a radio signal from _myself_ stating they were taking fire. I authorized the lowering of the shield. The next thing I know, I'm watching _myself_ step through the gate, escorted by two people I know very well, but never met before." At that she held up the tablet, turning it so that John could see the screen. The screen displayed a surveillance video of a sleeping Teyla Emmagan and an unconscious Elizabeth Weir, both sprawled across the floor of the Atlantis holding cell and stripped of all their non-essential gear, but looking otherwise unharmed. "You're only here because you bounced your head off the 'Gate when you went down... Care to fill in the blanks?"

John's eyes shot up in sudden worry. "Teyla, Elizabeth… Are they all right?"

"For the moment, they're fine, but I'm afraid we have a bit of a situation on our hands-"

John interrupted her. "Rodney and Ronon?"

Her brow creased in confusion. "…Who?"

"Rodney, Canadian Astrophysicist with a sore disposition and a taller guy with a monosyllabic lexicon?"

Elizabeth's lips pursed in regret. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about."

John felt his gut turn cold. "They didn't make it through?" He remembered struggling through ice and wind, bursts of light screaming past his ears. He remembered Rodney falling, Ronon stumbling. A push, then gleaming bright.

And now, Elizabeth.

Long strands of curls danced as she shook her head with subtle sorrow. "I'm afraid not, I'm sorry."

Stunned into action, John made moves to push back his covers and swing out of bed. "I have to go back. I have to find them." He got as far as pulling back the top cover before two stalwart Marines flanked Elizabeth and the tiny man.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," she stated. "Not until I get some answers." John's muscles tensed as he calculated the likelihood he could take both men, factoring in the feud he'd have to fight through to make it through to the Control Room alone, he decided to take the route that was less likely get himself and his teammates killed by their own doubles.

"This isn't the Infirmary; this is an interrogation room, isn't it? You don't wanna heal me, you wanna see if my story matches up with the rest."

Elizabeth's eyes dropped for a moment and she studied her hands. Nodding the security away, she looked back at John with disappointed eyes. The Marines returned to their stations as she spoke. "Am I really that transparent?"

John frowned slightly, "Where I come from, you're not a fan of brute force."

She seemed to laugh at that. "You really are a Sheppard, aren't you?"

"So my mom tells me," he muttered.

The laugh faded to a grin, and then back to a casual concentration. "Then you understand I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this. I'm just looking for the truth, and I assure you we will do whatever we can to figure out what the hell is going on. Will you let me do that?"

She wasn't the Elizabeth he knew, John realized, at least not entirely. She had a subtle, nervous energy about her that sunk to her very core. Her fingers twitched and she seemed at a loss for what to do with her hands. She tried to hide it by folding her hands in her lap, but then her breathing picked up. She was scared, he realized. He then wondered how she must feel, how _he_ would feel in her place, suddenly faced with his duplicate self, a duplicate team, for which he had assumed responsibility—a team which may have come to bite him in the ass. She'd done the right thing in separating them; he'd have done the same.

Looked like the only way out of this was to tell the truth.

Not necessarily the _whole_ truth, of course, but something to that effect.

After a moment of debate, he nodded in resignation. "I don't _have_ any answers. I don't know how I got here, I'm not even sure I know where _here _is!"

"It's all right, John. You're in Atlantis, you're among friends and, for the moment, we are all safe," Elizabeth soothed. "Just think back and try to remember what you can and we'll try to piece it all together from there. Okay?"

Nodding, John leaned back and traced his steps through the warbling void, back through driving ice, past anger and struggle and fear, back through caves and darkness and sorrow.

Back to a dead silent room and a heavenly light.

oOo

John tried to describe in as succinct detail possible the events leading up to his arrival, though that proved difficult. Elizabeth had plenty of questions, though not the ones he expected. She questioned the very fabric of his team, having never met this Dr. McKay or Ronon Dex. He used phrases she did not understand, referenced events that, to her, never took place. In return he found the subtle differences between their worlds were not, in fact terribly subtle at all.

For one thing, Atlantis couldn't contact Earth. Never could and, they feared, never would.

He hadn't been prepared for this, or for the questions it and all the inconsistencies raised. That the device had screwed with his known reality seemed beyond question. But how? What had it done? Had it altered time? Altered history? Had reality warped around him, or had he deviated from reality? If so, where had he come from? Where had he come to?

He'd considered the possibility that he had never escaped that ice planet, or that he may never have been there in the first place. Perhaps he was laying in a cell somewhere, dreaming this all up as some alien twerp searched his mind for the path to Earth.

But that didn't quite fit. Looking at Elizabeth, struggling to hold up a steel resolve, he felt something. He couldn't quite place it, but something felt wrong—or rather, _right_ he supposed. The Wraith mind-probe, the fractured realities of the alien mist, the interrogations on the Asuran home-world—all of them had that little seed of doubt that rooted itself in the back of his mind. Something odd. Something abnormal, a crack in the foundation on which the universe built itself.

He sensed nothing of the sort here, save the obligatory shellshock of losing half his team. Something indeed felt off, but off in the way the wrong paint job messed up a classic set of wheels—if he could compare Elizabeth to a vintage automobile.

Damn it, he had to start paying more attention to McKay's little ramblings. His crackpot theories had a way of coming in handy at times like this. Heck, _McKay_ came in handy at times like this—an incomprehensible line of geek speak, a short rustle through his bag of tricks, twenty-three minutes of solid tinkering and they'd all be home free.

Except McKay was, quite possibly, in the hands of the enemy in a universe that, quite obviously, had ceased to be his own.

He should have let Lorne's team handle the mission.

Elizabeth's voice drew him back to attention. "I have to admit, if I hadn't seen what I've seen in the last few years, I'd think this story completely bogus."

"The leather is a little hard to buy," he smirked.

Elizabeth laughed softly, and for a moment she seemed almost embarrassed. "Most of my things from Earth wore out a long time ago," she smiled, "And I could say the same about you."

"Me?"

She put a hand to his shoulder and, with a flick of her wrist, ripped the flag on his arm from its Velcro trappings. She looked at it with her brow curled in odd curiosity, "How many stars on this thing?"

"Fifty…"

"_Fifty?_ Fifty _united_ states?" she gaped in obvious surprise. "However did General Lee let that happen?!"

John narrowed his eyes playfully. "I don't think General Grant gave him a choice."

Again, Elizabeth laughed, this time more enthusiastically. "Never thought I'd hear a star Confederate flyboy singing the praises of Ulysses Grant."

"Confederate…?" John blurted, unbelievingly. Could it be, in this reality the American Civil War had played out differently, the South winning the right to leave the union and fracturing the indivisible nation? Did the America he knew even exist here?

"Like you said, John, it's all a little hard to buy," she added, pressing the patch back to his shoulder. "I'll have my people look through the archives, see if we can't find something like what you've described," she said as she glanced toward Radek, who obediently took note and scampered away to carry out her order. He paused as the door swished open for him and the small man looked back toward John. Something passed over his eyes—not sadness, per se, but something close.

In that moment, John believed he truly understood how different their realities had come to be.

Smiling softly, Elizabeth rose to her feet, her tone sounding chipper after such serious discussion. "All right, you told me your story, now I'll tell you mine. How about a walk? I'm feeling a little cramped in here."

His knees bounced with eagerness to finally be rid of the bed and he had to bite back a "Hallelujah."

The sensation faded, though, as she escorted him out of the small room and into the city proper. Ignoring the two Marines that tailed them at a respectful but protective length, John looked to the vaulted halls and found walls darkened and scarred by fire and searing beams. Banks of windows, their ancient glass shattered and blown out into the ocean, sat as darkened frames against an expanse of rippling tides. What seemed even more unsettling, however, was not the battered nature of the city, but the expedition members who wandered within. A few odd people he thought he recognized watched him as they passed, as if seeing an Asgard for the first time. Others shuffled by quickly with their heads down and determined, eyes glancing warily at his feet as if afraid he would suddenly yell out and strike them. A sinking feeling in his gut told him any attempt to speak to them might send them running.

"What happened," the soft words slipped from his lips when the small troop finally passed into unmanned halls.

"The Wraith," she returned without a hint of bitter emotion. "A year after we rediscovered the city, we came under siege by a Wraith hive ship. With no shield and few drones, we had few ways to defend ourselves. The Wraith swarmed the city and nearly tore it apart before we launched our last desperate defensive."

"Which was…?" John asked hesitantly, somewhat afraid he already knew the answer.

"We flew a cloaked Jumper straight into their landing bay and nuked the bastards to Kingdom Come," she spat, clenching a fist. Then, she stopped for a moment. She clenched her eyes and dropped her shoulders, taking in a short breath. Smiling to herself, as if to cover a faux pas, she opened her eyes and again looked toward John. "Excuse me," she said apologetically. "It was a hard day."

"Believe me, I can imagine."

"I suppose you should know…" she added, taking a few steps to regain her momentum. "The pilot of that jumper…"

"Let me guess," he said, then raised his hand sheepishly.

Elizabeth nodded, casting her eyes to the ground. "You can imagine, it's a little odd seeing you up and around. I hope this doesn't make things too uncomfortable while we get everything sorted out."

"I'll try not to go too Patrick Swayze on anyone," he replied. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Never mind," he cleared his throat. "For what it's worth, I can understand how you feel. We nearly lost the city to the Wraith our first year, too."

"Really? How did you… you know…"

John bit his lip, loathe to elaborate after having seen the depressed sights of the city. His Atlantis seemed a veritable paradise by comparison. Catching his searching look, Elizabeth answered an unasked question. "Don't worry, John. I can't very well hold good fortune against you."

John accepted that with a stoic glance to a blast torn wall. "We were able to send a message back to Stargate Command who, in turn, sent a battleship to Pegasus. We've been in constant contact ever since."

"That's good," she replied. "Maybe someday, the same will happen for us."

"Yes, I hope so," he nodded. "But that makes me wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

"What happened to the other ships?"

"What other ships?"

"Well, first off, our siege had three Hives. And when those fell, they sent twelve more. How is it the Wraith haven't come to blast this place to Hell?"

Her eyes widened slightly at that, but she quickly pulled herself under control. "We never picked up on any reinforcement vessels. After we destroyed their Hive, the Wraith left the city alone."

"That doesn't sound like the Wraith," John whispered. "Least not the Wraith I know. They've got you at a clear disadvantage, why hold off?"

"Believe me, Colonel, we've been asking ourselves the same thing for two years."

Something caught John's ear. "What?"

"I meant we're not going to start counting our blessings."

"No, before that. You called me Colonel."

"Well, I-"

John's eyes lit up and his brow furrowed in frustration. "Teyla and Elizabeth are awake, aren't they? That feed you showed me was just a crock of bull, wasn't it?"

Elizabeth kept a cool eye on him, resisting his intimidating for. "All right, yes," she conceded without conceding defeat. "They each woke up before you did…"

"I'd like to see them. Now. _Please_."

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but…"

"You've heard our sides, haven't you?" he pressed. "You know we're telling the truth! Please. I need to see my team, and I have to find my friends before who-knows-who does who-knows-what to them."

Elizabeth straightened as she considered her options, her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied his face. There was something she didn't want to tell him. But, before she could respond, something chirped in her ear and she flinched ever so slightly. For the moment, she paid him little attention as something passed over her ear set. John could not hear it, but only waited quietly until green eyes at last lay on him again and she nodded slowly. He straightened. One of the Marines, a man about his height, strolled up next to him and held out a guiding hand toward an Ancient transport.

"This way, sir," he drawled.


	5. Captivity

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to a Different Light  
By Reyclou**

**Chapter 05 - "Captivity"**

Elizabeth leaned against her side of the holding cell, scarcely able to comprehend what lay before her very eyes. Teyla stood, dignified as always despite her harried look, diligently negotiating with their guard between the slats of the Lantean holding cell – the odd part here being that their guard, Teyla, nodded and seemed to agree with every point she brought up, but under no circumstances was ever going to open the door. She couldn't help but be amazed at the sheer oddity of watching the two women—twins, really—converse. They bore the same mannerisms, the same patterns of speech. And yet there were subtle differences. Elizabeth thought the other Teyla stood a smidge shorter and looked a little leaner, though she stood in bare feet and Athosian dress while _her_ Teyla still wore the lesser layers of her extreme weather gear.

Elizabeth had often wondered how negotiations between two like minds would proceed when both sat on opposite ends of the same issue. With both sides knowing exactly where the other would draw the line, exactly what the other wanted and just how far the other was willing to go, some naïve part of her assumed said negotiations would progress quickly and with glowing agreements on both sides—after all, both parties had common interests at heart—and yet this _negotiation_ seemed to be going nowhere fast. Both parties, equally capable and equally educated appeared to cancel each other out, with the only winner being the party who was on the higher ground in the first place—in this case, the _other_ Teyla. She held the keys, proverbially of course, and no amount of sweet talking could or would ever change that, not that it stopped the two from trying.

_Her_ Teyla argued, as Elizabeth had, that they only wanted to see the rest of their team, to see for their own eyes that their friends were safe. The other Teyla, smiling warmly, assured them that would only be a matter of time. Teyla, however, didn't seem to believe herself. And so the two kept at it.

Kept at it, that is, until the outer door to the cell room opened and the _other_ Elizabeth, whom Elizabeth had come to uncomfortably refer to as "Doctor", stepped in with a groggy-looking John Sheppard escorted by a pair of tight lipped Marines. His eyes brightened when he caught sight of the two women.

"'Lizabeth, Teyla…" he called, pressing forward. No one made moves to stop him.

"John!" came the collective response from the cell and Elizabeth allowed herself a relieved smiled. At a look from _Doctor_ Weir, a guard opened the cell door. Sheppard looked back at her with a less-than-appreciative look in his eye, and then begrudgingly stepped into the cell.

Dr. Weir smiled apologetically and gave him a thankful nod. John glowered. Hesitant looks passed between _their_ Teyla and the Marine guards.

"I'm sorry about all this," Dr. Weir began. "I assure you this is only temporary. If you'll allow me a moment to confer with my staff…"

"Yeah, yeah," John waved his hand dismissively. Dr. Weir took a deep breath and Elizabeth knew the gesture annoyed her, but the other woman didn't let it show.

"I'm sorry," she added again, then turned on her heels and walked out, taking the rest of her entourage with her. The pair of Marines remained behind, but neither seemed quite comfortable with Sheppard's glare and came to the unanimous decision to guard the cell room from the outside.

John stared at the Lantean door until is swept closed behind them.

"Talk about creepy," Elizabeth whispered, trying to shake the image of tight leather and sweeping curls from her mind.

"Tell me about it," John replied, absently ruffling the hair at the back of his head. He winced.

Elizabeth frowned at this. "John? Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"Just a little bruise," he admitted through clenched teeth. "Nothing a few horse pills can't take care of once we get home—on that note, anyone got any brilliant ideas on how to get out of here?"

"What? You mean break out? I don't think things are _that_ desperate yet…"

"Two members of my team are in the hands of the Wraith," John pressed, pulling his hand from his dark locks. His voice held a twinge of anger. "I'd call that pretty desperate."

Elizabeth raised a hand to calm him. "I understand, John—believe me, I do—but right now we are effectively lost in unknown territory—we're not sure how we got here or if we can even get back—right now, they stand in the best position to help us."

John tapped at the cell slats, jerking back as sparks of blue light flicked across his knuckles. "Oh yeah, _this_ is helping."

Teyla nodded in reserved agreement. "I fear for Rodney and Ronon as well," she added, looking to Elizabeth. "Whatever fate has struck us, I feel it has not been so kind to them."

"I feel the same thing, Teyla. I'd rather we figure this all out in a group—together—where we're safe."

"Safe," John huffed.

Again, Elizabeth frowned. "John…?"

"Nothing. But for the record, I agree. We need to get out there and bring 'em home—or, back, I guess—_then_ make Rodney get us home."

"I agree, but I don't think pulling a disappearing act is the best way to earn their—our—trust," Elizabeth's head hurt. Trying to think with two minds, second guessing her every move was really starting to hurt. "Until then, we try to take it easy," she said, eyeing John with a cool glare.

John pressed himself into a corner and tiredly slid to the ground. "All right, fine," he consented, dropping his hands in his lap. "But I wanna know everything you guys have and haven't told them."

Teyla hesitantly scanned the ceiling.

"Don't worry," John added with a wry look. "I don't think surveillance is an issue."

-O-

Ronon sat on his heels, staring into nothing, save utter darkness. Smelled nothing, but the familiar stench of suffering flesh. Heard nothing, save the subtle sound of human breath from somewhere across the darkness. Felt nothing, save biting cold – and the waking fear that he was no longer a free man.

He slowly explored the darkness and found shallow, rough-rounded walls. Cracked, sloping floors. A wall of heavy grating. A cage. Ronon slammed his fists against it. Pulling and thrashing against it until he roughed his hands raw, but the grating did not move.

He growled.

He hated cages. Chains. Cocoons. Hated small spaces, small places. He hated creatures that wouldn't fight him face to face. Again, he rocked on his heels. Staring. Brooding.

He liked to move. Had to move. Had to keep them guessing. Had to keep them guessing or they'd find him. Always had to—except in the City. The City stayed still, kept him still. But then, the City was big. The City could hide and the city could hide him. He could move in the City, but he didn't have to run.

But this wasn't the City.

The air grew colder. The Satedan giant rocked a little harder, and stared a little harder. Within his cell was darkness, and beyond darker still. Only by ear and echo did he judge the empty space and structure beyond his jail. Only by ear and echo and breath. Steady breath. Steady breath came from the darkness. From across the darkness. It wasn't angered, or calculating, but hollow. Hollow and harmless.

Against his better judgment, Ronon took a stabbing thrust at hope.

"McKay?" he growled softly. The paced breathing hitched, but nothing more.

Ronon rustled in his cell and tried again, louder. "Mc_KAY…_" he called loud enough for his voice to rebound off stern walls.

He then heard a sudden scuffle, something striking steel followed by a gruff but muffled curse. Something moaned. A groggy voice returned, "Ronon…?"

"Here," he called, emboldened at the sound of a friendly voice.

It took the scientist a whole five seconds to drop into panic mode. "What's going on!? I can't see… Where are we?"

"You can see just fine, McKay, 'cept there's nothing _to_ see."

"Oh _that's _encouraging," the scientist groaned. Ronon heard shifting sounds and a slump as the man raised himself to a civil position. "I say again, where are we?"

"Somewhere."

"Oh. _Joy_…" Rodney paused a moment. Calculating. "Sheppard? The others?"

"Atlantis."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

The scientist seemed to take heart at that. His tone brightened. "Probably mounting a rescue by now, I would hope. That is, of course, they have the faintest clue who took us or where we are. I mean, ruling out the fact we're not, like, dead."

Ronon grunted, "They'll find us."

"And if they don't?"

"Then I'll remember to kill you first."

"Glad to know someone out there still cares."

Ronon had no reply to that, and so the two fell silent for a moment. Ronon rocked again. Rocked and thought. "Something's not right here."

"Really?" spat Rodney. "What brings that on? It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact we were snatched from the very threshold of salvation and shoved into a hamster cage of a cell, would it?"

"Feel the floor."

A soft scraping sound sifted from the darkness. "Yeah. Stone. So what?"

"Feel the bars."

A hollow clack and soft ringing followed. "Yeah? So?"

"Since when do the Wraith use steel and _stone_ to build a prison cell?"

Moments passed as his words sank in. "Lovely," Rodney retorted. "Of all the hives out there, we had to be grabbed by the Flintstones."

"What?"

"Never mind, just freaking to myself. Carry on."

The noise of boots striking ground sounded loud and raucous in the silent stillness and Ronon thought it better to keep quiet. Worse still was the far off jingle of heavy keys turning in a metal padlock. And yet, with the close quarters rebounding the sound, it all seemed so near. A heavy door creaked and boot steps struck again, again, again. Growing louder, louder, louder until it seemed they clacked on top of him. He heard several pairs – at least four, he counted. Most heavy, clunky - men. One light, diligent - a woman.

In the darkness, he heard them more then saw them as the group shuffled to a stop outside his cage. He could hear their breaths. Hear their clothes rustle as they shifted in their stances. He sunk low and closed his eyes, preparing himself for what would have to be a very short bloodbath.

More clinking of keys. A low voice grumbled something, which led to a soft flare and sudden blast of light. The world beyond Ronon's eyelids brightened to a murky dusk.

It surprised him for but a moment. Then he heard the clank of a freed latch and his senses took over. He dove for the grated wall.

The wall gave way in a clash of chaos, knocking one man away and evoking a surprised yelp from across the hall. Ronon let his eyes open enough that the light wouldn't sear them. The others, only dark forms against brightness, backed up but did not scatter. The woman gasped and, probably out of fear, pressed herself to the wall. He went for one of the men first, landing a heavy strike across his chin before another moved to grab the Satedan. Ronon nearly downed him with an elbow before a sharp strike to the back of his knee had him stumbling. Another to a sweet spot on his lower back and his spine blossomed in pain.

The giant wheeled around and best he could with a sharp slicing in his hip. He saw a streak of shock white hair and pale skin in the bright of an electric lantern – it moved to quickly for him to get a proper fix, but that didn't matter. His instincts kicked in.

He blocked a strike to his face, to his leg, to the soft places of his flesh. Then they spun in a flurry of fists and, for a moment, Ronon couldn't sense their attack. He threw a block and met only air, to be rewarded with a knee to his side. Another flash of swirling white and he went down on one knee. The strikes were not hard, but fast. Too fast. Too fast, at least, for his half-blinded senses. And, while they didn't hit hard, they hit _right_. Soft spots and pressure points.

He hit the ground before he realized which way was down.

Far off, he thought he heard someone calling his name in short, panicked bursts, only to be silenced by a grumbled command.

Above him, the form spun to a stop a straightened as the men grabbed at him, forcing his arms into bindings. A shock of white hair and green eyes glinted in the light and Ronon realized his fatal mistake.

He'd let the woman live.

-o0o-

"Ronon," Rodney shouted over the commotion. "Ronon, you can't…"

"Silence!" someone shouted in his ear and Rodney's face met the stone wall with such force his vision flashed.

"What the Hell…? Who the Hell…? Why the Hell…?" he stuttered.

"I said _silence!_" the man sneered as angry arms thrust Rodney's wrists into heavy metal bindings. It wasn't until the man grabbed him by a shoulder and turned him around that Rodney caught sight of the Satedan giant sprawled on the ground. A short, white haired woman stood above him, her face already bruising where she had taken a glancing blow to the temple. More men kneeled at the floor, binding the Runner. Rodney froze when he saw the woman's hair. The long, silky-white strands evoked images of snarling, pale-faced creatures. But as she looked up and gruff hands hauled him closer, he noticed her smooth features bore none of the eerie, contorted facial features of even the ugliest Wraith they had seen stumbling into this galaxy. Her skin, while pale, bore a reassuringly human cast of pale pink. She nursed a mild bloody nose and, Rodney was somewhat happier to see, the blood oozed a deep, mortal red.

She caught him staring and, with a dissatisfied glare, motioned his captor to get a move on. Rodney winced but did not struggle as he was pulled down the long, stone hall. Further down, his handler opened a heavy door, shoving Rodney into a small room with two large chairs which sat back to back. The man forced him into one of the chairs, chaining him down to a chair which was, in turn, bolted to the floor. A few moments later, a growling Ronon lurched into the room at the head of a small troupe of shouting men. He resisted, quite adamantly, and received a sharp strike to the kidney for his troubles. The struggling continued until the men at last forced the Satedan into his prison chair and, only then allowed themselves victorious smirks and jabbing words. Most of them were in a language Rodney was somewhat delighted to blissfully ignore.

The woman stood in the doorway, carrying the electric lantern. Another hung somewhere over Rodney's head and, with their light combined, the room grew bright enough that he could see sharp and clear and, with the heated scuffle out of the way, his captors stood still enough that Rodney could let the details sink in.

And it was then he noticed they all looked very much the same – all clothed in the same dark, militaristic uniforms with familiar, asymmetrical coat flaps. The woman dressed a little different, wearing only a black shirt and what must have been uniform trousers. Her dark boots clacked against stone as she stepped forward.

"I am Aeirenna Aren of the Genii, you will answer my questions or you will die."

"Must we always jump straight to sudden death? I mean, can't you throw in an enticement package or something, you know, just to change things up a bit."

"I am not here to play to your comforts. Tell me what you were doing on that planet or I will see that your flesh is ripped from your body, strip by tiny strip, starting with your eyelids. Do I make myself clear?"

Rodney's chest tense and he felt a bit of acidic bile leap into his throat. For a painful moment, he could not speak, whether he wanted to or not.

"You were with three others, tell me who they were."

"If you wanna threaten someone, why don't you start with me?"

A few clacking steps and Aren stood before Ronon, green eyes boring into his. She leaned in close, as if with no regard to her personal safety. Sure, the man was practically chained to the floor, but six and a half feet of Satedan fury was no less fearsome from five inches away, iron shackles or no. Aren glared at him, nearly touching nose to nose then, swift as a windstorm, pulled back a hand and slugged him clean across the face with such force she could have knocked the giant over were he not bound to his chair. One of the Genii soldiers stepped to Rodney's side, holding a knife to the scientist's ear. Rodney tensed and held still as stone, holding back a silent whimper as the cold blade pressed against his skin. "You," she hissed to the runner, "do not speak until commanded, or else he starts slicing."

Ronon glared at her hard enough, none could miss the fire in his eye. But, eyeing the instrument so close to the quivering scientist, Ronon spit away a small pool of blood that had trickled into his mouth and fell silent.

"I will ask you again, why did you go to that planet?"

"Because I thought it had this nice beach party atmosphere, but the Major tricked me. Intentionally misrepresented the results of his scouting mission-"

"Scouting? You've been there before?"

"Well, no. Not _me_, but we'd sent a team before. You know. To check things out. Hobnob with the locals. That sort of thing. Look, if we interfered with some sort of operation here, we're sorry. If you'd just give us a chance to explain this to Ladon…"

"Who?"

"Ladon. Ladon Radim? Little mousey-looking guy? Lord and master of all Genii? Ringing any bells here?" The knife slipped closer to his ear and Aren leaned in.

"I believe the name you're looking for is Chief Cowen."

"Cowen? What? No. Cowen died… Cowen died _months_ ago in a nuclear blast—didn't you get the memo?"

Aren pushed forward, pressing her knee to his throat, constricting his breathing. "While I am convinced you are far from lacking in stupidity, you will stop playing an idiot and give me the truths I seek. You are Doctor Rodney McKay, this I know. You are in league with the occupants of Atlantis, this , I also know. You were sent by your _masters_ to seek out our Genii base—and so you led them here. When you were discovered, your _masters_ left the two of you behind to die."

"Look, obviously you've never met us before or you'd know that story is completely bogus, Sheppard would never do that. You're trying to bully me into…"

"So it was Sheppard with you?"

"Are you guys, like, the _Amish_ sect or something? I mean, you are _seriously_ out of the loop…"

Rodney's voice trailed off into incomprehensible gags as Aren nestled her leg up ever so slightly, effectively cutting off the man's air supply. Ronon struggled and cursed in his chair, but could do little to help his friend. For Rodney's part, he half hoped the male soldier would just slice him already and put him out of his misery. Aren made no move to ease up as his face turned ever deeper shades of red and Rodney's vision dimmed.

Suddenly he heard a sharp call, almost a bark, from somewhere. It sounded so far off, yet right there. It sounded so familiar, and yet odd. In a flash of recognition, the woman backed off. Rodney's chest expanded and he took in a lungful of fresh air. His chest contracted with the pain of it and he fell over in a coughing fit. Then she was on him again, righting him, holding him upright by the collar. His eyes focused on her, white and darkness. Another form moved into his vision and it took a few seconds for his mind to clear, for his eyes to process. It was another man, rather squatty, also dressed in trim Genii uniform. He bent over and smirked at Rodney, a thin mustache poking out through scratchy stubble.

"Hello, Dr. McKay," greeted Commander Acastus Kolya.


	6. Turnabout

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to a Different Light  
by Reyclou**

**Chapter Six: Turnabout**

A Lantean door swished aside and Teyla, Elizabeth, and John found themselves looking into the Control Room, the Gaterium sprawling out before them. Teyla breathed a subtle sigh of relief, letting tension relax from her shoulders. At last, Dr. Weir showed them a burgeoning trust by allowing them so far into her central command—escorted only by a pair of Marines. Between herself and Sheppard, Teyla knew the Marines stood little chance. If her team truly meant harm, they could take down their escorts at the mildest of distractions. However, Teyla knew Dr. Weir—or rather, Elizabeth—well enough to know everything if they took the unspoken opportunity, they would not succeed, and break that trust forever.

Teyla straightened herself willfully, but still could not shake a cold feeling in her gut. She worried for McKay and Ronon, neither team—her own nor Dr. Weir's—could give a secure answer as to their fate. John was last to have seen them, and he only remembered scant details—little that could _point them in the right direction_, as they say. But more than that, she felt awkward in this curious place. She knew every corridor, yet it felt she had walked none of them. She knew many faces, but feared speaking to anyone. It was, in truth, a place that looked like home but felt so unfamiliar, suspicious even.

She glanced at black marks that seared the walls and she felt remorse for the harsh fate the city had come to know. She sensed its effects on the personnel, on the military staff, on Dr. Weir herself. Something swirled just beneath the surface, something dark, something fearful, something desperate. They were very much entrenched in a war, a war with great sacrifices she and her friends had only just begun to endure. She caught a glance at Sheppard out of the corner of her eye and swallowed against a sudden soreness in her throat.

Great sacrifices indeed.

Dr. Weir looked up as their ensemble marched through the control room. A few scientists and technicians sat at scattered posts. Most kept to what they were doing, barely noticing the strange newcomers. A few watched them with guarded eyes, but neither said nor did anything to interfere. While most faces seemed familiar, Zelenka was the only other she truly recognized. He and Dr. Weir stood by the DHD, both studying the screen of a small laptop, Zelenka explaining something complicated in hushed, rushed tones. He cut off when he too spotted the team, and nodded a hesitant welcome.

Dr. Weir smiled more openly but not excitedly. Whatever Zelenka had been whispering about had not pleased her terribly. Setting it aside for the moment, she turned toward them. "Sounds like we have some good news, and bad," she began.

"What's the good news?" Sheppard pressed in a tone Teyla found less than diplomatic. Teyla knew the Colonel did not appreciate deception, save when he employed it himself, and it seemed the time in the Lantean cell had not cooled his temper.

Dr. Weir showed no outright signs of offence, but did pause a moment to stare at him before she made her reply.

"We have found something in our database that references your Ancient device. From what Dr. Zelenka tells me, it is, in laymen's terms, a…" she paused a moment as if unsure she herself believed her own words. "…_gateway_ _between alternate realities_."

Zelenka nodded emphatically. "We have, of course, records of a similar device on Earth we call the Quantum Mirror."

Teyla's eyebrows rose and she turned to the others, who only seemed mildly surprised by comparison. Elizabeth, in fact, nodded in recognition. "Yes, we destroyed ours years ago—or rather, our version of Stargate Command, did—to protect our reality from just this sort of intrusion."

"As have we," Zelenka added, tapping a few keys to bring up an Ancient schematic of a familiar, multi-mirrored device. "But, regardless, this device works much on the same principle. However, I believe this to be, for lack of a better term, a later model—experimental model, really. Ancients never truly finished project before retreating from zeh Wraith."

"Okay," John replied, patronizing to the point of disinterest. "So what's the _bad_ news?"

Zelenka nestled his glasses further up his nose. "Regrettably, the entry on this device is incomplete. Either the Ancient research was interrupted, or the Ancients purposely kept information out of zis database."

"And…?"

Dr. Weir folded her arms and glanced at the floor before replying, as if flustered by his persistent annoyance. "If we're to determine how to work the device, how to get you home, we're going to have to examine the device ourselves, which is going to take time."

John's eyes narrowed and he stepped forward. "Time be damned, I'm not leaving without my team."

"Understood Colonel, and I wouldn't ask you to," she said, un-intimidated by his glare. "That's why I've authorized a search-and-rescue mission to seek out your teammates while a group of my finest minds study the device."

"Thank you… Doctor," Elizabeth managed, and John backed down a notch. To her credit, Elizabeth appeared genuinely thankful, but still showed some difficulty conversing with _herself_. Of all of them, Elizabeth had had the most experience in dealing with an alternate self, and yet Teyla did not think Elizabeth terribly comfortable with the situation. And Teyla could empathize. Her own encounter with herself had been rather disconcerting. In a way, Teyla was thankful she hadn't been assigned to guard herself, and wondered if that had been at her own request.

"I think it best we start on the planet you all gated from," Dr. Weir suggested. "Not only does it have this device, but, in the absence of any contact from their pursuers, it's the best place to look for clues as to the whereabouts of your team."

John frowned in dissatisfaction. "You think the Wraith are gonna leave a calling card and a spare key?"

Elizabeth and Teyla half-glared at John while Dr. Weir bit her lower lip to avoid slipping something rash. Again she seemed hesitant to tell them something. "Unfortunately, Colonel," she at last admitted. "I have reason to believe it was not the Wraith who attacked you and your team."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"In the course of our stay here," Dr. Weir seemed loathe to admit, "We have unavoidably offended some of the local peoples—most prominently of which are those known as the Genii."

All eyes turned to John, who looked mildly embarrassed at best. He continued to stare at Dr. Weir. Elizabeth cleared her throat softly. "We've had experience with the Genii," she frowned.

Her eyebrows rising in interest, Dr. Weir looked to Elizabeth. "Then I suppose you know they can be a truly vicious enemy."

"When adequately provoked, yes."

"You mean to say the Genii have our friends?" Teyla asked.

Dr. Weir nodded. "We have reason to believe, yes."

John lifted an eyebrow. "Which could be a good thing, or rather, a_ better_ bad thing?"

Elizabeth looked confused. "How so?"

"The Wraith have big honkin' spaceships and brain-screwing powers. Humans are a little easier to deal with, if you get my drift."

"They're also a little easier to track," Dr. Weir added. "We have limited resources, but we do have intelligence on the positions of the Genii camps throughout the galaxy. If we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt it _was_ the Genii who took your men, I think we have a pretty good idea of where to look next."

A knowing look passed over John's features and his broad shoulders slumped slightly. "But that means going back out to Santa's Workshop out there, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Colonel," Dr. Weir held a hand toward the DHD. "If one of you would like to punch in the Gate address, I have a MALP standing by. Sergeant Bates' team will scout out the area and report what they find. We can go from there."

This time, Teyla's brow piqued. "Sergeant Bates?"

"Ever since Maj. Sheppard…" Dr. Weir's voice trailed off and her expression drooped. After a brief moment of silence, she cleared her throat and regained her composure. "Sergeant Bates is our ranking officer… is that a problem?"

Teyla smiled tightly, if falsely. "No. No, that is fine," she said, ignoring for the moment a past grievance from another world. Then, with encouraging looks from John and Elizabeth, Teyla stepped forward and pressed the first symbol. The Gate lit up in response.

Dr. Weir smiled.

-o0o-

Rodney winced as he heard another strike of fist against flesh. Ronon growled, spat, and then angrily righted himself, as he had done time and time before. For hours they'd been here—or so it felt. Kolya, paced round and round, demanding answers to questions Rodney couldn't comprehend, questions which made no sense. And, when Rodney refused to answer, or his answer proved inadequate, Kolya's white-haired minion took another shot not at the scientist but at the Satedan.

And every answer was inadequate.

McKay hadn't seen Ronon since he entered the room, but he was loathe to imagine what the man looked like now.

"The logic behind this problem is very simple, Dr. McKay," explained the Genii commander. "Tell us everything about your involvement with the Lanteans, everything about their plans against this base, and everything they know about the Genii forces and you will live to witness their executions."

"Oh, _that's_ inspiring," McKay grunted, his face red with anger. He was, in all honesty, sick of this guy.

"You are running perilously short on options, Doctor. I suggest, for the continued health of you and your friend here, you tell me what I wish to know."

_The nerve of this guy_, Rodney groaned inwardly. _He doesn't even have the courtesy to STAY DEAD._ "Or what?" Rodney asked. "You'll feed us to a Wraith like you did Sheppard? Huh?"

Kolya paused in his step, looking to the scientist as if to examine his very core. He said nothing, but watched closely, a curious look on his brow. Rodney hardly noticed, his anger too great and his jaw flapping too wildly.

"Or maybe you'll terrorize a whole village just to get revenge on one man. Is that what you're going to do? I don't know how you survived that last encounter but I can tell you that you might as well kill us now because neither Elizabeth nor Sheppard are going to give into your demands after what you pulled—and I happen to be just this side of sick of seeing you around so you can just put me out of my misery."

For the first time in his life, Rodney felt himself growl—an honest-to-goodness growl—and he felt his shoulders straighten. Confession, they say, cleanses the soul; maybe it stiffened the spine too.

"McKay…" Ronon warned, but another strike to his gut silenced him.

"You seem to have a deep and devout loyalty to a man who tried to kill you and your entire crew," Kolya stated, eyes still trained on Rodney.

"What are you _on_ about? Sheppard's done nothing but protect us!" Rodney shifted in his restraints. "Granted, that sometimes involves the odd nuclear explosion here and there…"

Kolya struck Rodney's chair with his foot before planting it there and leaning on it. He leaned in close to the scientist's face, speaking in smooth snarls. "Sheppard and that _Expedition_, or so you call it, are a scourge on this galaxy. And since the Major's _heroic_ stunt during the invasion of the city, Dr. Weir has done nothing but manipulate a galaxy over which she has no claim and, in doing so, has stolen the very tool in this galaxy that may save us from the Wraith. She is—I believe the term is 'a cutthroat'—and anyone who allies with her is nothing short of a traitor to the inhabitants of this galaxy," he leaned back, glaring down at the smaller man. "Not to mention your own, I've heard you say as much yourself."

Rodney's eyes widened. Kolya had obviously lost it. "What!? _When?_ I would _never_ say such a thing. Sheppard and Elizabeth have done nothing but try to _help_ you people. We've made a few miss-steps, yes, but that doesn't make us _traitors_." Rodney looked around at the assembled brutes. None of them looked particularly intelligent, save perhaps the woman. "Is this how you control these brutes? Lie to them? Twist the truth? Keep them in the dark about who's right and wrong here? How come you haven't told them about Cowen? About _Ladon_?"

Ren looked to Kolya. "Commander?"

Still he did not take his eyes from Rodney. His gaze a near-slicing intensity, he spoke to the woman as an equal, not a master. He studied instead, Rodney's features, his reactions, his breathing. "I do not know what madness has taken our Doctor here, but I can assure you he knows nothing of what he speaks. You have seen with your own eyes what the Lanteans have done, what the Doctor here has done."

Rodney startled at that subtlety. _What I've done?_ He wondered, _what the hell have I done to them?_

"If Dr. McKay refuses to talk to us," the man continued coldly. "I see only one other course of action."

Only then did Kolya break his gaze from the scientist, instead turning it toward the young soldier at Rodney's side. He still held his menacing knife, now tipped with a thin trail of Rodney's blood. Rodney eyed him warily, nervously.

Kolya held an expectant hand out to the young man and Rodney felt his blood run cold. "Aldrig, your knife."

-o0o-

Teyla pressed the last symbol of the gate address. Stepping back as, far below her, a bubbling rush like the plunge of water beneath a fall, sprung from the lighted Gate. Sensors across the panel blinked to life, chattering off a thousand minute details. Slowly a little robotic creature rolled across the Gaterium and through the warbling blue. Moments later, pictures, sounds and readings poured in over a half dozen sensors. A monitor showed a bleak image of snow and mountains and sky.

"Looks like the place you described," Dr. Weir whispered in wonder. "This is the planet you gated from?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes, that's the one."

"Very well then," Dr. Weir nodded and, with a pointed glance to the Marine escorts, dropped into cold command. "Take them back to their cell."

"What?" Elizabeth blurted, stepping forward. She was halted by a Marine's hand.

Teyla, too, turned confused eyes on Dr. Weir. "Are we not allowed to oversee the mission, if only from here in the Control Room?"

Dr. Weir glared at the women. "There never was a rescue mission," she said, again nodding a silent command to the escorts. In a flash of motion the Marines moved. The first moved on Elizabeth and Teyla saw sudden movement from John out of the corner of her eye. The second moved for her nearly as quickly, but not quickly enough. She knew with a spin and a strike she could take him down armor or no armor, just by the way he moved. The man reached for her and Teyla let her body take over. She took his arm and shifted, pulling his weight in her favor and twisting his arm 'til it made a tell-tale pop. The man half groaned half screamed and went down fast. She found it almost too easy.

Perhaps Teyla had been wrong, perhaps Dr. Weir had genuinely underestimated their will to resist.

She looked to the other Marine and saw he held a gun to Elizabeth's throat. The other woman had a wide-eyed look, part fear and part horrendous surprise. She did not have time to process the warning in Elizabeth's eyes before she felt a hand at her throat. Suddenly Teyla was airborne. Then just as suddenly, she wasn't. Her back slammed into the floor hard enough to send her vision flashing. She tried to resist, but found her limbs weak and unresponsive. She could barely will her eyes open long enough to stare into raging hazel. John held his hands to her throat until darkness took her.

"Thank you,_ ladies_," John sneered in a mockingly polite tone. "You've been more than helpful."


	7. Danger

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to a Different Light**

**Chapter 07 - "Danger"**

Rodney awoke to a soaring sense of disappointment. Not that he was still alive and, as far as he could tell, _well_, but that the bindings at his wrist and the stiff rag about his eyes proved that his little foray into the Genii underground had not, in fact, been a terrible dream. His captors felt little pity for him, however, and all but ignored his mumbling protests as they shuffled him about their compound. With his vision blinded, Rodney could do little more than stumble in the direction he was pushed. His only solace came in the muffled, angered grunts that told him Ronon was never far off—and likely escorted by a small horde of Genii grunts. He had to admit that waking up at all had come as a bit of a surprise to him. When Kolya had taken the knife from his lackey, Rodney had all but expected the commander to slip it across his neck and end the scientist's life with one quick swipe.

Instead he'd had the thing carted off for genetic verification of his identity. How they planned to _do_ that, he had no idea. But at least he found it favorable to the alternative.

Rodney could make out the distinct clacking of a woman's boot against steel and stone as they passed through endless halls. They struck with such a distinct pattern that even blindfolded and half-paralyzed with fear, Rodney recognized the presence of Aierenna Aren. That they struck so hard, coupled with the grumbles in her throat, Rodney could not help but sense the woman was in a very bad mood.

Quite _ticked_, actually.

And he wasn't even one to pick up on these sensitive kinds of things.

Suddenly the clacking stopped and Rodney felt himself pulled to a sudden halt. A sharp pain, like the pinch of a vice, shot through his ear and he let out a whimpering yelp. He quieted, however, when he felt hot breath on his neck.

"Listen," Aren hissed. "Against my advice, the Commander is allowing you to live. He consults with that miserable officer of yours for what purpose I shall never guess. Were it my command, you would have been dead hours ago." Aren's words dropped low, quiet, whispered in slicing haste. "But if you think of nothing else, know this: If I, even for a fleeting moment, suspect you or that creature in any way threaten me, my commander, or my men, or if I suspect you are in league with another—whether the Commander believes so or not—I will kill you with all swiftness."

He gulped back another whimper as she released him. He felt her hands in his hair and, to his surprise, the blindfold loosened and dropped away. The sparse light of the hall, while dim, pained his vision and instinct clamped his eyes shut. Aren barked something to one of her men and he heard a heavy door swing open.

Again, her men pushed him forward and Rodney stumbled into a larger room. He opened his eyes again and saw two men standing in a rustic conference room. Kolya stood there looking none too pleased, a small band of guards standing just out of arms reach. His eyes narrowed as they caught Rodney's. Rodney blinked, willing the fuzziness from his sight. His gaze shifted then and fell on the other man who stood opposite the Genii commander, Genii guards on either side of him. The balding man turned to face the scientist and Rodney's heart leapt with recognition.

"Colonel Caldwell?" he blurted. "Oh, thank Heaven-" McKay made to step forward, but Aren's grasped his collar with an iron grip, warning him to keep his place.

Col. Caldwell looked over the scientist and the Satedan with a distant eye. His uniform looked drab, dusty and worn, but he stood straight and with such a strict air of command that there was no mistaking his presence. Still, if the colonel looked surprised to see them, he didn't show it. Rather, Caldwell turned back to the commander with little more than a flinch in his eye.

"What's going on here?" he questioned.

"That is the very question I would ask you, Colonel," Kolya returned, his voice souring. "Why are members of your crew assisting a surveillance mission led by none other than the heads of the Lantean occupation?"

Caldwell seemed slightly annoyed by the comment, replying in a dismissive tone. "Whatever delusion you're involved in, Commander, I assure you these are not my men."

Rodney's expression slipped and Kolya eyed him warily. "You will forgive me if I'm loathe to believe you." Kolya shifted imperceptibly, but he seemed to grow in stance and dedication.

Caldwell eyed him coolly, idly picking his next move. "Commander, I'd like to speak with my escort team."

Kolya's eyes passed first over the colonel then glanced over McKay. Pausing for only a cautious moment, he finally turned and nodded to a man at the back of the room. The young but heavy built Genii officer stood by a thick door. At Kolya's silent command, he turned and pulled it open. After a shuffling of feet and a heavy groan from the door, more men appeared from the hallway beyond. The first was a stocky but boyish looking man in Air Force fatigues. Rodney recognized the form of Maj. Evan Lorne.

Rodney fumbled for the words to greet him, but before the words slipped from his tongue, another figure stepped from the dim hall behind into the brighter light of the conference room and Rodney fell silent with shock as they locked gaze.

Two sets of bright blue eyes widened as another Rodney McKay entered the room

Rodney's mouth went dry, and he felt his knees weaken slightly, but the Genii woman's grip kept him up. Ronon let out a grunt he could only interpret as surprise. Their guards, too, looked to each other in momentary surprise, save for Aren, who merely glowered darkly and straightened her shoulders.

_How? How is this happening_? He asked himself and a myriad of scientific explanations and psychological excuses sped through his processes, not the least of which either involved experimental Genii cloning, a hellish afterlife, or the simple explanation that he was quite mad—which he would have been okay with except his mind traced back to a dark room buried deep beneath a mountain and suddenly everything clicked—the Ancient chamber.

Rodney's stomach churned. _Oh crap._

"So, you have two of them," Kolya stated callously.

Lorne shifted in his stance, as if bored with the commander's blatant observation. "It is a little more than that, Commander-"

"Suddenly it all makes sense," Rodney blurted, cutting off the major's response.

His outburst seemed to take the gathered group by surprise and looks of suspicion quickly slipped into looks of subtle confusion on all but the two faces of the ranking officers. The other McKay seemed almost taken aback by Rodney's sudden claim. Still, Aren's comments on the Genii infrastructure, the existence of a still-breathing Acastaus Kolya, the creepy body doubles—it was all the fault of Sheppard and that Ancient device. It had to be.

"McKay?" Ronon whispered harshly, keeping a fierce gaze on Kolya. Rodney could feel the hatred seething through the man's skin, the anger burning in his breaths.

Rodney mumbled in a hurried whisper. "You remember the _Rod_ incident a few months back?"

The Satedan nodded unsurely. "Yeah?"

"Same principle applies here, only _we're_ the ones stuck in an alternate universe…"

Grunting, Aren slipped a Genii switchblade from her sleeve and in one elegant motion had it at Rodney's throat. Whether she meant to kill him in that instant, or warn him into silence, Rodney did not know, but Kolya's voice froze her before the knife ever found flesh.

"Alternate universe?" Kolya breathed with an air of skepticism and Rodney suddenly felt very, very stupid. How was he going to brief a room of _Genii_ on the basics of theoretical physics—okay, practical physics—and the now proven theories of alternate realities? With Lady Deathstrike poised to decapitate him at half a moment's notice?

To his surprise, Caldwell spoke up. "He's right, Commander," he said. It seemed Caldwell and Kolya were no strangers here. If anything, they spoke like allies—allies who trusted each other about as far as they could _throw_ each other… sitting down with their pinkie finger and their off hand. "The report just came in over our intelligence network—three duplicate members of Atlantis personnel arrive in the city over a day ago, at the same time your three 'spies' escaped through the Stargate. They've already verified the story."

Kolya's eyes narrowed. "The Lanteans?"

"My _contacts_," Caldwell pressed.

Kolya didn't seem impressed. "And how am I to know they speak the truth, or that you have not indeed allied with the Lanteans yourself?"

Lorne glared at the commander. "Because if Atlantis had access to our ship, they wouldn't need a ground team to scout your base, they would just nuke it from the air." Lorne paused in thought a moment. "Come to think of it, neither would we."

"Major," warned the Colonel and Lorne backed off. Rodney worked his jaw for a moment, looking for words to express his thoughts, but none came. So they were allies—hesitant allies, to be sure—but allies none the less. Moreover, they were allied _against_ Atlantis, _against_ Sheppard and Weir and probably everyone he counted as a friend in his own world. He had the sudden desire to wink out of sight and scamper on home.

Except he couldn't cloak himself like a Jumper, and he doubted he'd gain access to one now.

"Um, hi." Rodney interrupted, waving a hand toward the glaring officers. He spoke quickly. "Pardon me. I realize I'm just the creepy alternate reality copy here and you're well within your right to lock us away—preferably with as little physical intimidation as possible—but might I take a moment to reinforce that we didn't come here to hurt anybody?"

Aren wrenched his arm to silence him and Rodney slipped back a step to avoid the sharp metal she held to his person. Caldwell looked him coldly. "Look," Rodney continued. "I don't know what's going on in this reality and—frankly, I'm not sure I _care—_but if you want us gone, we're gone. Just let us pick up our friends and show us all to the inter-dimensional door and we're outtie."

One of the Major's hands came up to silence him. He didn't look particularly happy about the situation, but at that moment Lorne seemed downright hospitable compared to the looks McKay got from the others. "I don't know what goes on in your reality, but if your _friends_ managed to gate to Atlantis, there is nothing we can do for them."

Rodney's face fell. "What do you mean? They're all right, aren't they?"

Lorne glanced at his comrades and, seeing no one else particularly willing to speak up, sighed and turned to the scientist. "Atlantis is enemy territory, Doc."

-o0o-

The Genii torchlight burned on as Rodney slumped a little further in his chair. After much ranting and arguing, the assembled group had consented to take seats at the conference table. Kolya still seemed to think Caldwell was trying to pull a fast one, Aren still looked like she wanted to kill something, and Caldwell seemed all but fed up with the lot of them. Ronon glowered in his own seat, his glare still trained on the Genii commander—which really wasn't helping the whole we-come-in-peace angle Rodney was going for—of course, Rodney couldn't exactly tell him to knock it off.

The only one who seemed less talkative than the lumbering runner was, in fact, his other self, who only spoke when spoken to—and only when no one else had offered up a better answer. So quiet was he that Rodney could have completely ignored his existence were it not that looking at him felt like looking in a funhouse mirror. The other McKay wore thin, wire rimmed glasses and looked from side to side with worried eyes, as if afraid to get too near any one person.

After about five minutes, Rodney seriously wanted to smack himself. But it wouldn't have been worth the effort.

His eyes trailed to the floor. When Lorne had said enemy territory, he'd first assumed the Wraith had, at long last, captured the city. He'd then considered that perhaps the Replicators had, in fact, invaded the city.

That the command of Dr. Elizabeth Weir was considered "enemy control" surprised him, to say the least. That she was considered not just a traitor to the United States, but to the entire planet Earth—not to mention the international community which largely sponsored the one-way ticket to the Pegasus Galaxy—shocked him to his core. Elizabeth a _traitor_? He'd refused to believe it until the Colonel went and laid out the whole story.

Their Atlantis expedition had formed and departed much as the expedition he knew had—with a few exceptions. Dr. Rodney McKay had forgone his invitation to join the expedition in favor of his work with the Russian program. Not that he could blame him, really, but having had that initial experience with the Expedition, Rodney could not fathom having ever said _no_ and he debated if that single choice had, in fact, changed the course of this reality.

Well, besides the fact that apparently the larger part of Canada was actually a territory of the United States, annexed sometime in the 1770's by General Benedict Arnold.

He was _really_ starting to hate this reality.

What had him wondering, however, was the revelation that the Atlantis Expedition in this galaxy had never, to put it bluntly, called home. The whole Expedition had been thought lost until the completion of the new ship _Daedalus _gave them a vehicle with which to follow up on the lost expedition—and so they did. On a limb, the Daedalus carried with it the a ZedPM on the logic that, if the ship could not establish contact with the lost expedition, at the very least they would have wasted as little time as possible in the process.

Caldwell now viewed it as one of the worst mistakes in his career.

Oh, they had succeeded in contacting the lost expedition all right. They'd found the team clustered together in a worn, heart-sick city ransacked by siege and struggle. An avalanche of war and horror had befallen the city and the survivors, bereft of friends and beloved coworkers, walked the city as if searching for the lost.

"We did what we could," Caldwell explained. "But the damage to the city—if not to the people—was far too much for us to patch up overnight. The Wraith had attacked the city with every intention of wiping the city from the ocean, it's a miracle and a tribute to their bravery that any of them survived."

"So what happened?" McKay inquired.

"With the ZPM in place, we established contact with Earth. After briefing Landry and, later, the representatives of the IOA on the situation and informing them of a larger fleet of Hive ships detected on course toward the planet, it was decided the Atlantis Expedition would be immediately terminated and evacuated."

Rodney's eyes bugged and he nearly choked. "Terminated? Atlantis? You can't be serious."

"Events unfolded much differently in our world than I surmise they have in yours, Dr. McKay." Caldwell stated in his cool tone. "Our battle with the Ori in the Milky Way turned very sour very quickly after the Daedalus left Earth. Most of our space-faring fleet was wiped out by an Ori incursion and the Daedalus is now the only ship that lends Earth a fighting chance—only we're not there to fight."

"But the technological advancements, dare I say, the superior weaponry of the Ancients would surely be invaluable in war with…"

Caldwell interrupted Rodney's argument with a subtle shake of his head and a quick glance to Commander Kolya. "Believe me, Doctor, this has all been argued to the minute degree. At the end of the day, Stargate Command and the IOA believed it wiser to concentrate on one impossibly powerful opponent at a time rather than compromise _both_ galaxies."

"But obviously that didn't happen, did it?" Rodney replied smugly. For some reason it made him warm inside to know fate had screwed over the IOA's decision to screw over Pegasus.

"No," Caldwell replied curtly. "When the expedition members learned we intended to take them home and scrap what was left of their city, they fought back."

"I can't say I blame them."

Maj. Lorne sat forward, this time annoyed with Rodney's flippant attitude. "You don't understand, Dr. McKay. That city changed them. More than just sentimental attachment—it was like that city morphed them to their very core. Scientists took up arms against soldiers, soldiers turned on their commanders, several units from the city even tried to sabotage and take control of the ship. Nearly everyone in they city turned in mass to resist us with deadly force. It was the best we could do to break away and escape."

Rodney could scarcely believe what he was hearing. It didn't sound like Sheppard's tactics, and it sure as hell didn't sound like Elizabeth. Lorne and Caldwell had to be lying, or at least fibbing in their own favor. "And you haven't gone back since? Have you even _tried_ talking to them?"

"The Daedalus sustained severe damage in its escape," Caldwell informed, looking to the other Dr. McKay and back. "Our intergalactic hyperdrive was critically damaged and our interplanetary hyperdrive engines sabotaged by Lantean influence. Hermiod was only barely able to get them back online before a barrage of drones nearly struck our ship. Since then, we've let them believe our ship was destroyed in that attack. We have made no direct attempts to contact them."

To Rodney's surprise, it was Kolya who picked up the conversation. He did not speak in vengeful snarls or intimidating dialogue, but in calm review—speaking to Rodney as an equal, as he had with Aren—convinced, perhaps after such long discussion, to follow the Colonel's cue. "The Lanteans have, in turn, taken their fury to the Wraith. Sabotaging ships, destroying ships, assassinating Hive Queens. Anything to disrupt the Wraith domination."

Ronon smirked from his seat between several guards. "Sounds like we should be _rooting_ for them."

Kolya nodded, a move that disturbed Rodney to no end. "At first, we were," he agreed. "The Genii even forged an alliance with Weir. But when we realized how quick they were to sacrifice others lives, myself and my command lost faith. You have not seen how eagerly they throw Genii blood against the Wraith—wastefully—to secure some insignificant foothold of achievement." Kolya looked Rodney square in the eye so intensely it made the scientist squirm. "We will not throw off one mantle of tyranny for another."

Rodney shifted under the man's glare, Kolya's icy demeanor suddenly making his subtle sarcasm seem empty, distasteful, out of place. The reality of the matter slowly began to dawn on him. This was a world where everyone he thought good was now evil. Was it also one where all evil became good? He eyed Kolya and Caldwell, two men he certainly did not consider chums, and one whom he barely considered human. It was a moment before he realized Caldwell was speaking again.

"And while the Expedition has made strides to overthrow the Wraith domination of this galaxy, they have done so at the sacrifice of their own. As far as we know, there may be no Stargate Command—no Earth—left for us to return to. Billions or more may have been sacrificed in their short-sighted goal to lead a tiny expedition against a galactic overlord."

Rodney could think of nothing to say. He simply sat in stunned, uncomfortable silence.

Caldwell caught his sudden, somber mood and glanced away. "Look, Doctor. We did not bring you here to argue our ethics and mistakes. It is clear to me this whole situation is one unfortunate accident. If you're willing to show us this Ancient device you have discovered, we can return you to your own reality, but it will be without the other members of your team."

"Are you crazy?" Rodney blurted back. "No. We have to get our friends back."

Caldwell shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid that simply isn't possible, Doctor."

"You said you have contacts—contact them! Elizabeth is a negotiator, a diplomat, that's how she got her job in the first place. You can't possibly have gotten yourselves into a situation she isn't willing to negotiate a resolution to."

This time it was Dr. McKay—the wimpish version—who broke in, lifting his eyes from a thin tablet laptop that lay on the desk before him. He spoke softly, but firmly, trembling as if it took the full concentration of his will to speak without wilting. "You don't understand. That city has changed them," he looked around as if asking for support. "It's in their bloodstream; it affects the way they think."

"What are you talking about?" Rodney half growled.

Dr. McKay trembled, passing the notebook off with shaky hands. "Blood t-t-tests. Look."

Rodney snatched the computer from the other man's hands, eyes scanning the displayed information even before he got a good look at it. While he was no medical doctor or biologist, he could make out the unsettling readings blinking at him on the flat display. After a second's calculation he looked away from the notebook with humbled eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Oh crap."


	8. FaceOff

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to a Different Light  
By Reyclou**

**Chapter 08 - "Face-Off"**

Elizabeth Weir willed back all emotion as a team of Marines escorted her through familiar halls. She did not hold any dellusions that, without a strongarm like Teyla, she stood any chance of fighting her way out of captivity. She kept herself calm, bit her lip and followed orders, but that only masked the white-hot anger of betrayal. All this time she had struggled to help these alternate forms understand them, see eye to eye with them, as if she and her team were the dangerous elements in this scenario. Obviously that had been a mistake. She should have sensed it coming. Instead she had lead her team straight into a trap. Her friends were broken and scattered across an unknown galaxy, and they had no way to knit themselves back together.

_Doctor _Weir walked ahead of her, flanked by another Marine and the man who should have been John Sheppard. Elizabeth barely recognized him now. He carried Teyla slung over his shoulder like a rag doll-and he seemed downright excited about it. She could not find words to express the shock she felt at seeing the man choke-slam their Athosian ally. The act had brought a fierceness to his eye that she had scarcely seen before, and he brandied his physical superiority with such a swaggering confidence that Elizabeth couldn't help but think him a man of more brawn than brains. This, obviously, couldn't be true. If he were truly the Sheppard she knew, than this current state was only a subversion of his normal temperment. If this were indeed _not_ the Sheppard she knew, then he had wits enough about him to play the role for such a time as it took them to spill the information he wanted.

Elizabeth's spirit sank as she considered the angle that this was _her_ Sheppard, somehow changed from their last meeting and stripped of his humanity, somehow turned into this creature of coiled anger, but as she studied the back of his shifting form, she knew this could not be true. Something seemed off - his shoulders too wide, his hair too long. Little things missed in casual observance. He shifted the human weight on his shoulder and Elizabeth noted a scar at the base of his neck. It was small and still bore a pinkish glow of healing, but Elizabeth had heard no reports of so much as a stubbed toe in John's recent reports. It simply wasn't him.

But if that was true and this was indeed some other Sheppard, then what had they done with John? Had he even made it through the Gate with them, or had he been left behind? For that matter, how much of their current reality did they truly know? How elegantly had this illusion been acted out?

The chirp of an access panel broke Elizabeth from her thoughts and she realized they stood outside the door to the cell room. Slowly, the door swished open, granting them access to the dim cell beyond, and Elizabeth got her answer.

A string of curses befitting a sailor, or rather an _airman_, welcomed their arrival.

John Sheppard, clad in medical scrubs, bound at the wrists and seething with anger paced within the Ancient cell. At their intrusion, he stopped to face his mirror image, glaring though slatted metal with burning intensity. In that scalding hazel, Elizabeth saw something unsettling and yet reassuring: righteous anger of a vengeful fervor, but not abandoned by intellect. Elizabeth knew instantly this was the true John Sheppard.

Elizabeth barely had the wits to walk, much less resist as the cell door opened and she was shoved inside. Marines trained guns on the caged Sheppard as the other unceremoniously dumped Teyla on the cell floor. Immediately Elizabeth bent to check on her friend. She was breathing and, as far as Elizabeth could tell, not seriously wounded. Sheppard—or rather the man she now assumed to be _Major_ Sheppard—smirked wryly as he and his Marines backed out of the cell. Before they cleared the door, however, the Major paused to slip out of his coat.

"Thanks for the jacket," he giggled, rolling the garment into a ball. He then tossed it at John. With his arms secured behind his back, John could do little in defense. Rather, he simply stood there as the jacket smacked him square in the chest and fell to the floor. The major laughed anyway and backed out. The door swung shut.

Never taking his eyes from the major, John kicked the coat toward Elizabeth. Glancing warily at their captors, she gently, hurriedly folded it and placed it beneath the Athosian, cradling her head so that it did not lie against the hard ground. John again grumbled long string of inventive curses, stalking toward the cell's edge before Elizabeth pulled herself together enough to ask the first of many, many questions that swam in her mind.

She looked up to the team gathered beyond the bars. "Why? Why do this? We never threatened you, we never meant to harm you in any way."

But it was John-her John-who responded. "And _they_ never meant to help us," he spat, nodding toward their counterparts. "They've had this planned from the get go."

The major shrugged in casual response. "This isn't the part of town where we can just let everyone come and go as they please."

"Our city has seen some desperate times," Dr. Weir added firmly, positioning herself prominently before her captives. She burrowed her hands in her arms-not because of a chill, Elizabeth noticed, but out of idleness, to stifle a nervous twitch of her hands. "We've had to resort to desperate measures to protect it." She said knowingly, her eyes narrowing on Elizabeth. "I'm sure you have had to do the same."

"Nothing like this," John half laughed

Dr. Weir met his glance with an icy gaze. "I apologize, Colonel that we haven't been completely honest with you, just as_ you_ have not been completely _honest_ with us, but what we've told you of the Wraith in our reality, those gashes on the walls outside? All of that is true. The Wraith _did_ attack us and we did suffer greatly for our right to inhabit this city."

John's tone deepened suspiciously. "You mean a siege?"

"Years ago the Wraith sent warships much as they did in your reality. Only in our case, one reached us early..."

"Probably eager to blow us to Kingdom Come and feast before the rest could muscle in on the snack bar," Maj. Sheppard interrupted.

The other Elizabeth eyed him impatiently, annoyed at his interruption, but she chose to disregard it. "They were our warning," she continued coolly. "We had enough fight in the city left to wipe out the one ship, but that took every ounce of power we had. To survive, we went out into the galaxy in search of what little we could grasp. We took the only power we could find - A ZPM from a secret syndicate."

Elizabeth's brow creased and, deciding Teyla was as comfortable as she could be, rose to her feet. "The Brotherhood?"

Again, Maj. Sheppard smirked self-confidently. "We found they were not nearly the challenge they made themselves out to be when dually confronted."

"With a fully charged ZPM, we thought we were ready when the Wraith came," Dr. Weir's eyes drifted away and her voice softened subconsciously. "We couldn't have been more wrong."

Her words had a sobering effect on the major. His eyes narrowed and his gaze dropped low. His jaw clenched and the muscles in his arms tensed as he subtly clenched and unclenched his fists. As if suddenly feeling an irresistible urge to move and move quickly, Dr. Weir started to pace back and forth, staring at the floor before her. Elizabeth sensed something then, but could not quite place it. "You had an impenetrable shield," she said, confusion in her tone. The shield in and of itself might not have ended a siege, but surely it had given them time, if not options.

This time it was Dr. Weir's turn to half laugh in rebuke. A light flared in her eyes as she shook her head and hissed, "So naïve. You do not understand how little you know."

Stunned and just a little hurt, Elizabeth took a step back, but John did not miss a beat. "You mean they found a way through? Through the shield!?"

"We were nearly torn to shreds," rumbled the major. He shifted and squared his shoulders. "Only we had an ace in the hole."

Something in the way he moved just then connected in Elizabeth's mind. An aggressive, almost primal assertiveness. She'd seen it before, a man infected with a terrible inhuman prowess, _inhumane_ dedication. She caught a glint in his eye. Synapses fired, her eyes widened imperceptibly and it all came together.

"You're on the Wraith enzyme, aren't you?" she whispered. "You're using the Wraith's strength against them."

"If you gotta fight your enemy hand to hand, might as well make sure you're in the same league."

This time it was John who took a step back, perhaps surprised at his own dark logic, his own deep desperation.

"The enzyme is dangerous," Elizabeth pressed.

The major rolled his eyes. "We've weighed the pros and cons, and right now the pros are kicking the cons' ass. We're alive today because of that stuff, what those of us are left, and we've been able to take the fight back to the Wraith."

Elizabeth set her jaw, sensing in his tone the same defiance that destroyed a young lieutenant and by a ways nearly snuffed out her star team-her closest friends. "Then if you're so suave and strong, what do you want from us?"

"We already have what we want, Doctor," he replied. "Now we're working on what we need."

Elizabeth's eyes flicked to the woman beside him. Dr. Weir paused her pacing to stare at her accusingly. "You have an operational city with a charged ZPM."

Elizabeth barely hesitated. "It's nearly depleted," she lied.

"It's near full charge," the other woman stated, her glare darkening as if she could see straight through Elizabeth's practiced guard. Of course, Elizabeth reminded herself, she of all people would know how to read her own face, her own body language, to flag a lie when she spoke it. Besides that, Dr. Weir had, through her cunning plots, not only divided the team for investigation, but slipped in a spy to draw out intel. Dr. Weir already had all the information she needed.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and refused to speak. Dr. Weir carried on.

"You have access to resources that we sorely need in order to not only save ourselves, but destroy the Wraith's hold on this galaxy forever and, in doing so, spare millions-billions-of lives."

"We are willing to help you in any way we can but-"

The doctor cut her off. "Are you willing to give us your ZPM?" She asked, pointedly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and let her shoulders droop slightly. "You of all people know I can't do that."

"Then you can't possibly help us _willingly_, can you?"

"We need our ZPM as much as anyone," Elizabeth's demanded. "If our city fails, we will sacrifice just as many lives!"

"Sacrifice?" The major's face soured and he hissed through clenched teeth. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

"The Wraith have nearly destroyed us, time and again" defended Elizabeth, unfazed by his slicing glare. "And we've only stayed a step ahead of them by doing everything within our power to conserve every resource and exhaust every option."

"The Wraith have barely scratched you." The major said, striding to the door. "Open it up," he called to one of the Marines, who in turn obediently worked the cell door. It swung open effortlessly and the major zeroed in on her alone.

Instinctively, Elizabeth took a cautious step back, but the Maj. Sheppard made up the distance. John made to push himself forward, to attack his other self, but the snap of several guns as they leveled at his chest stalled his motion. Maj. Sheppard grunted and caught Elizabeth's wrist in his firm grip. John growled something harsh under his breath, eliciting only a snarl from the major. Elizabeth turned to John helplessly as Maj. Sheppard jerked her toward the door, sending him a soft plea through a wordless connection.

_Stand down, John. Don't get killed for this._

John must have heard this, or rather sensed it. Fury burned in his eyes but he did not strike out as Elizabeth passed out of the cell. Maj. Sheppard tugged her from the cell with such force that Elizabeth could barely keep on her feet. She stumbled clumsily behind. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the surprise of his compatriots, but they did nothing to stop him. Instead Maj. Sheppard marched her straight out of the cell room, his hand still locked around her wrist so tightly, she felt he might snap it in two.

"Major," she huffed. "You're hurting me!"

He did not look back nor loosen his grip, but coldly hissed, "I'll hurt you worse before the day is out."

-o0o-

"How can we even begin to trust them?" Kolya questioned, his hands folded before his face, his elbows leaning on the conference table for support.

"You have to admit," Caldwell considered. "That if this is a trap, it's a complicated one."

"They could tell us any host of scenarios to convince us otherwise."

"True, but look at where they appeared."

Kolya fell silent for a moment, glowering. The conference room in and underground base on an unnamed world had long since been cleared of the larger part of its occupants. The odd prisoners had been carted away to comfier quarters, the Genii soldiers set about their necessary duties, leaving the ranking officers to contemplate their next move. All that remained in the dim space were Commander Kolya and Caldwell, the Daedalus commander having sent Maj. Lorne and his escorts back to tend to the ship.

Acastus Kolya obviously still harbored doubts toward their new arrivals. Caldwell couldn't blame him, the stories hardly seemed believable. Duplicate beings from other realities, parallel worlds, just-like-us-except-not? The commander had, of course, never seen such things. Unfortunately, Caldwell had. Not, perhaps, in person, but certainly from endless reports through the SGC. But that was not the reason for the stoic silence. What annoyed him was the fact that they had turned up on his watch in his territory - what's more, in a refuge Kolya had long thought secure and secret. So secure and secret, in fact, he had never risked telling Caldwell about it, which certainly made for an uncomfortable breach in security on the commander's part.

Caldwell leaned forward in his chair.

"You have your secrets, I have mine, Commander. I'm sure you run a dozen just like it across the galaxy. Don't let ego blind you to the fact your base is compromised. But even assuming or friends here are telling the truth, _someone_ made it through that gate to Atlantis and we both know Sheppard isn't going to let something like this slide. He'll investigate. He'll find your base."

"Or perhaps they've known about it all along," Kolya stated, his gravelly voice carrying accusation. Now Caldwell grew silent. Kolya sniffed and stiffened in his chair. "Can you not put it together, Colonel, the clues that there are spies within this resistance? Ferrying our thoughts, our strategies to the Lanteans?"

Caldwell shook his head slowly. "My people have no ties to this galaxy, nor to that deranged Major. I have a hard time believing any of them would put the rest of his crew at risk." He left out the comment, _"Your men, on the other hand, have lived under Wraith domination for generations and would do just about anything to end them once and for all."_

They were just starting to get along so well, no need to sabotage their alliance with the _obvious_.

"Nevertheless, here we are," Kolya returned. "You cannot honestly look back on these last few months of failed plots, lost storehouses, _dead men -_- and tell me there is no spy, unless that city has made them strong _and_ psychic."

The colonel frowned. "You miss my point, Commander. This discussion can wait. If you're to evacuate your base, you must do it now. I can lend what help I can from my ship and my crew..."

Kolya's face darkened and his voice lowered to little more than a whisper. "Look at me, Colonel. I am a disgraced rogue, outcast from my people, thrown against the Ancestor's city and sworn against the Wraith. My enemies are great and my options are few. Trivial hideaways and shelters, I can disperse and move, but only for a time. For years my people have hidden away beneath the surface to fool the Wraith even as we sacrifice our very lives that others may live. Now beneath a mountain I find tools and technology which may turn the tide of this war. I cannot afford to forsake as valuable a resource as that base has come to be. There is a treasury of the Ancestors left there, of which my men have only begun to explore. I cannot leave it behind."

The intensity of the commander's stance hit closer to home than Kolya knew, Caldwell admitted to himself, since that was the very logic behind the initial Expedition - brilliant men and women marching into uncertain solitude in the hopes of retrieving something that could change the universe for the better.

But, of course, everyone knew how that turned out.

"Sheppard will come after you," Caldwell warned.

"Wonderful," the Commander smiled. "I intend to put a bullet in his heart."


	9. Sacrifice

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to a Different Light By Reyclou  
****Chapter 09 - "Sacrifice"**

Elizabeth nearly tripped over her own feet as Maj. Sheppard half-flung her through doorway. Her hands slipped from his grasp and, without his support, she stumbled forward, a railing catching her in the midsection. It was the only thing that saved her from a straight drop to the floor below. Recognition dawned as she eyed the wide open expanse before her, the tier of crystalline controls around her, and, straight ahead, the giant ring which commanded all attention.

As in other parts of the city, dark marks seared the walls where bright beams had swept and the walls burst open where blasts had ripped away layers of metallic shielding. Stark blast marks speckled the great staircase, which sat dark and dead in the shadow of the ring. The wall - no more than skeletons of shattered glass and blackened steel - looked out over the Ancient city. The ocean roared distantly, and the smell of the water drifted in.

Sheppard began even before she asked, "This is where they breached the shield." He slowly scanned the battered Gate room, trying to sound casually disinterested and failing miserably. "We thought we'd trashed the the first hive before it did serious damage, but maybe that was all part of the plan. Wasn't 'til later we realized they'd beamed into the city... They layed low 'til the other hives showed up," he grimaced. "We were so preoccupied with shielding the city, when the control room erupted in flames and we lost the shield that really mattered."

"The Gate shield?"

Sheppard nodded grimly. "They knew it was coming. Soon as the shield dropped, Wraith poured in faster than we could fire. And they all came in shooting."

Elizabeth clenched her eyes shut as she tried to banish the image of waves of Wraith units surging through the Gate, stunning and fighting and feeding. Wraith. Here, of all places. The most heavily guarded spot in the city. Her mind flicked back to her own sarcastic sneer back in the cell. She was right, she was naive.

"But you still control the city," she said slowly. "How?"

For the first time since they had entered the Gate room, Sheppard's gaze found hers. She saw not the caustic anger or the self-righteous ego she had seen in the cell. No, this was far different. In his eyes she saw a simmering rage, an indomitable dedication and above all, heart shattering sorrow.

"Sacrifice."

-o0o-

"Fall back! Fall back!" John ordered. Without hesitation his command echoed through the Gate Room, carried by a half dozen voices. Legions of Wraith poured through the Gate, hissing and rasping as if laying claim to the city. At the call, waves of grey and camo green mechanically withdrew from the sea of white and pale, steadily retreating toward the doors. The city's lockdown mechanism had long since kicked in unbidden, and only the few, the proud, and the genetically blessed could escape the Gate room now.

Several in the control room lay dead, killed in the initial explosion of the sabotaging blasts. John had seen Grodin fall, eyes lightless, before the reflexes kicked in, shoving compassion into a little iron box and bringing his will to kill boiling to full fervor. John's unit held their ground at Elizabeth's office until all others cleared the Gate room below, laying cover fire as the last civilian - Carson - disappeared behind the transport doors with a gurney and the last battered victim they dared pull from the chaos.

A long walkway separated his unit from the swarmed control room and John pressed that tactical advantage for all it was worth, but little by little the Wraith worked up the courage - or was it hunger? - to challenge death and storm the walk. Even now they drove forward in thick numbers of snarling beasts. It took so damn many bullets to kill the bastards that, by the time he felled a single warrior, three burst forward to replace it.

"Let's get a move on," John shouted and the last of his men moved for the transport. Backing away, but never taking his eyes off the Wraith advance, John trailed his men. One fighter leapt from the Wraith's ranks, catching John by surprise. Deftly, John pulled a grenade of his own from his vest, letting it fly toward the catwalk as the snarling creature lurched for him. Ducking from his grasp, John flung himself at last into the crowded transport. As the doors closed in front of his face, John heard the loud explosion, the resounding thud of a heavy body slamming into the door before him, the screams of dying Wraith, and the sound of collapsing steel.

John took a breath and willed his unit to the infirmary, where teams of Marines and scattered civilians poured in steadily from all sides. The whole room was a bustling and bunching, ebbing and flowing of a crowd of bodies. Medical personnel hurriedly bandaged the injured as military units established defensive stations. Waving his men to follow with him, he spotted Carson not far off, wheeling the gurney into a room set off from the rest. Teyla strode with him now, gently holding a pale hand as a nurse hunched over the bed, bobbing with the hurried pace.

Elizabeth lay still and sleeping as the nurse fussed over dark stains of blood which widened on the bleach-white sheets.

"Doc, how's she doing?" John called.

Carson replied in a remarkably cool, collected tone, never taking his eyes off his patient. "I'll have to go inside if I'm to stop the bleedin'. They're already prepping for surgery in the isolated rooms."

"Surgery?" John glanced at the panicked urgency around him. "Here?"

"Aye," replied the Scot, impatience brimming in his voice. "Or do you have a better plan, Major?"

"The bulkheads may hold back the Wraith for now," John warned. "But if they override the big shield, they can fly down and beam in wherever they damn well please. You and your people have to be ready to move."

"I understand that, Major. We're doin' the best we can, but we have to do this now or we might lose her."

John could do little more than grimace and nod a tight nod. Carson returned in kind and the small med team disappeared behind a door with the gurney. Teyla remained behind. A voice broke over the crowd, cathing John's attention.

"Major!" Lieutenant Aiden Ford called, squeezing through a break in the confusion. John turned to see he led a troop of men who escorted Dr. Radek Zelenka, the chief scientist, through the chaos. "Sir," Aiden began, speaking with a deep, authoritative tone. "The Gate room is clear of friendlies. All bulkheads between us and the Wraith are sealed and holding steady."

The short scientist looked up with sad blue eyes and sighed. "I feel we've cut out the heart of Atlantis."

"They took us by complete surprise, Sir," Aiden continued. "But they're going to have a hard time getting through those bulkheads."

John frowned. Aiden didn't see the big picture here. At the time of the attack, the Wraith had them completely at their mercy. They could have done anything - tossed a bomb through and completely blown out the whole tower, sever the shield and pound the city to dust from above - anything. Hell, with one mammoth blast, they could have wiped away the human presence in the city.

But they didn't. They came on foot to the most defensible position in the city.

"Why?" John whispered.

"Sir?"

John hadn't meant to speak out loud and so the Lieutenant's voice caught him by surprise. Still, the thought process snowballed rapidly. "The Wraith... They don't want us, we aren't the threat. The city is the threat. Then why, why haven't they destroyed it?"

Teyla broke her quiet observation, intuitively rewording his question. "Why send so many if they just intend to blast the city until in crumbles into the ocean?"

"Zey're life sucking aliens," Radek replied, addressing the major in a politely patronizing tone. "Perhaps they want to... feast?"

True, John considered. That may have been part of it, but the pieces still didn't fit tight. "No, it's more than that," he thought out loud, eyes trailing over the crowd. They were missing something here. The Wraith hadn't broken the Gate only to send a bomb through, they had come in person. Not only that, they had come in such overwhelming waves that John suspected the Wraith now outnumbered the humans - not a great ratio for a snack run, John thought.

No, the Wraith hadn't come for the humans, at least not directly - they had come for the city. Worse yet, if that was their one and only goal, then the Wraith had all but fulfilled it. They held the key position, the high ground. They won. The city and all its wonders, was their's for the taking.

That's it.

John's eyes brightened. "They want the city whole so they can use it to get to Earth. That's why they came in person instead of blasting us to smithereens."

"But the gene..." Aiden pressed. "They can't operate the city without the gene, can they?"

Radek looked hesitant as he explained, "There are genetic protocols in place, yes-"

"But without us here," John cut in. "They have all the time in the world to figure it out."

With that spark of insight, Aiden suddenly realized the true implications of the Wraith occupation. "In that case, Sir, perhaps we should consider the self-destruct. It's a grim option, but I don't see that we have much choice. We can't let them use this city to get to Earth." He looked to the Major with the mask of a steely gaze, but John could still see fear haunting his eyes.

He was willing to sacrifice himself for the good of humanity, but Aiden Ford did not want to die.

Sheppard looked away. He'd seen the plans. The self-destruct would take out the whole city, blasting it into mere fragments of a dead city. They could, perhaps, escape to the Jumpers, but with the Wraith still in orbit, they had no place to go. They would likely drown along with the city. The Gate, if it was not destroyed in the initial blast, would sink with the fragments to the bottom of the ocean where...

That sparked something in the back of John's brain. He envisioned the Gate lifeless on the ocean floor. Severed from its power supply, the Gate was useless - dead. Even a Jumper couldn't dial out. In theory, an incoming wormhole could wake up the gate, sustaining it from the other end, but the weight of the ocean would crush any being that dared pass through, if they did not drown first.

That gave him an idea.

John looked to the scientist. "Radek, I need you to do something for me."

The man's face fell and his eyes held a swell of sorrow. "I need help to arm ze self-destruct-"

"No," John countered so quickly, it caught the Czech off guard. Radek looked to him in surprise. "I think we have one last shot. Can you access the Gate controls from one of the auxiliary access points?"

"Yes," Radek nodded. "But it is pointless, ze Wraith-"

"-control the Gate room, I know. Can you access Gate security?"

"Yes," Radek replied, more confused than confident.

Aiden turned his head ever so slightly, anticipating the Major's thoughts. "You wanna try to raise the Gate shield again?" he guessed. "Stop the Wraith from coming in?"

Radek waved a hand at the lieutenant's suggestion. "Zat won't work. Ze Wraiths' sabotage took out shield control crystals."

The lieutenant turned to the scientist. "What about dialing out-"

"Not with an active incoming wormhole. We will not have a chance to dial out again for another," Radek paused to check his watch. "Seventeen minutes..."

John turned to address the unit behind him. "Then we have about fifteen minutes to get to the jumper bay," he informed, then began to move back toward the transports. Aiden moved to follow, but John stopped him with a hand.

"Ford, I need you to help clear these people outta here. Get them to the underwater bays. If all else fails, you can escape into the ocean."

Aiden hesitated a moment, clearly wanting to follow but unwilling to disobey. Seeing the need for the order, Aiden nodded a quick "Yes, sir," and turned to retake command of the unit around him.

"Teyla," John added, "You're with me." She nodded and followed quickly.

-o0o-

Making it to the jumper bay had been admirably quick and painless, and for that John thanked the Ancient protocols. It seemed as if the city sensed his need, his desire to protect the city, and opened itself up to him. His team had not fired a single shot between the infirmary and the jumper bay, and they proceeded as hastily as caution allowed.

Teyla moved up beside him as they entered the jumper bay. Wordlessly, the Marines fanned out to cover them. The woman eyed him warily as John moved for the closest Jumper. "Major," Teyla she began lowly. John paused cautiously at the hatch. "There are hardly enough jumpers to service everyone, much less pilots to navigate them. If we must evacuate by jumper, we will have to leave friends behind."

John did not bother with eye contact. Rather, having sensed no threat within the jumper, he motioned the Marines to stay put, then quickly ducked inside. "That's why I'm hoping this works."

"hoping what-" Teyla began, but a warbling sound cut her off. It resounded throughout the city.

John looked up to the Jumper's ceiling in subtle dread. So the Wraith had made quick work of the other shield too. "Crap," he groaned, only to have his grunt of frustration met with a sudden shout and a loud blast. He caught a glance to his Life Sign Detector and noted a number of new life signs had popped up across the bay. He hastened the pilot's chair.

"They beamed in already?" Teyla questioned, sliding into the co-pilot's seat.

John shrugged off the question. "Or they pried open a bulkhead," he replied, tossing his concentration on the controls. A brush of his fingers across the steering controls woke the ship from its slumber and lights blared across the dash. "Doesn't matter. Time's almost up." He clutched the radio at his chest. "Radek?"

"Forty-five seconds, Major," came the scientist's reply.

He had the ship in the air before the Wraith realized what was going on and, distracted, turned their firepower on the ship - leaving the Marines with the opening they needed to fire uninhibited. The Wraith dropped to the floor as the bay doors opened on the gate room below.

The jumper sank into enemy territory.

John lowered the jumper into the Gate room with the window display facing away from the control tier, but he stared in awe at the sheer number of dots that registered on his life sign display. They had infested the control room, crawling and swirling about each other like bees on a hive.

Only this time the hive was in his home.

"Five seconds, Major!" Radek warned, and John set his jaw. As expected, blaster fire screeched through the air and rattled the ship, but none did serious damage. These Wraith, it appeared, had intended to fight flesh and blood beings, not metal ships.

John had calculated it would take a mere matter of seconds for the Wraith to re-establish their gate connection. In his unfortunate travels, John had spent more than one horrific night trapped on a doomed world as the Wraith culled another encampment, furiously dialing every time the gate shut down. Not once had he beaten the Wraith. Not once had he regained control, and he suspected out-dialing the Wraith to be outside human capability.

Which was why he decided not to dial, but used the precious seconds for something far more effective.

"Three... two... one..." Radek counted.

"Now Radek..." John called, and a dismal groan shuddered through the floor of the Atlantis Gate room. With a subtle whine, the light of the Gate swirled into nothingness and the Gate began to teeter and wobble it rose up on its edge.

John thrust the ship forward, engine pods extended, and caught the Gate with the slender ship. He willed as much power into the engines as the ship could stand, dumping all his anger and vengeance into the command. The ship plowed on, crashing through the windows at the rear of th Gate room and sending both ship and gate out into the Atlantis night.

Growls met the ship's escape and more than a few beams darted after its whining whir, but the blasts died quickly as the mood in the room changed abruptly from combat to confusion. An orb, bright as living gold, hovered in the ship's wake, casting a warm glow of sunlight on the faces of the gathered Wraith. A few quick-brained warriors let out strained screeches, only to be drowned in the sudden bright and horrendous rage of a healthy explosion which swallowed the Gate room in flames.

Outside the tower, glass and bits of hot steel rained down on the rogue jumper. While the ship had enough power to pluck the Gate from the floor, the engines strained under the weight of the Gate in open air. This didn't concern John, however. Extended flight was never a part of the plan. As soon as the ship cleared the edge of the tower and flung out over an expanse of water, he let the ship tilt forward. Physics took over from there.

There was a short scraping sound as the Gate fell from the yoke of the jumper, its chevrons lighting in anticipation of another worm hole. The portal fell between two branches of the city, where the water washed up close to the tower. The last chevron locked just before the Gate hit the water, and the two occupants of the jumper watched the burst of a forming wormhole reach out as if grasping for the ship, but gravity held too strong a hold. The Gate slammed into the water and the ocean swallowed it greedily.

-o0o-

"You sank the Stargate?" Elizabeth blurted unbelievingly.

"To protect the city."

"You took an incredible risk."

"Doesn't take an idiot to figure out when an asset becomes a liability, the liability gets thrown out on its ass." John crossed his arms, but his eyes looked far away. "It was almost enough."

Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. "Almost?"

John fell silent, morose for a moment. Turning his attention to the shards of the battered office across a sagging walkway, he made his way toward a blackened transport. Elizabeth looked back at the door from which she'd entered but, knowing it did not lead to freedom, followed wordlessly.

"The drone wiped out most of the Wraith," said John. "And those that remained were understandably worse for the wear. Problem was, I was right. A few had breached a bulkhead. We were hovering outside the Gate room when we saw it."

"The bulkhead?" Elizabeth asked as they approached the transport. It opened with a defeated groan. Maj. Sheppard ushered her in.

"No," he said, the doors closing on them. "The explosion."

"The...?" Elizabeth began, but the split of the transport doors stole her voice away. They opened on a scene ever darker than that which she had just left. The infirmary appeared before her like the remnant of an evil dream. While the walls of the Gate room were scarred and blasted away, the walls of the infirmary stood black as pitch, the floors caked in the debris of flames. Gurneys lay in twisted lumps of half melted metal. Shelving racks, bent with force and heat, crumpled against the walls, their contents scattered and shattered across the floor. Light spots in the shape of human bodies stood out against the black layers on the wall and Elizabeth knew she looked at the sites where men had died.

"Most of the personnel had cleared out, but Carson's team was still working on evacuating the worst of them," John's eyes dropped to the floor. "The Wraith that breached the infirmary must have known they were on the losing side again, because they went straight for the throat. Ford's men did what they could. He saw Carson... go... before he drew the line." He stared at a spot on the floor from which radiated licks of darkness. Elizabeth surmised it to be the center of a grenade blast. "He was a good kid."

Elizabeth felt something lurch in her gut as she stared at the floor. Aiden had left no trace behind.


	10. Divergence

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to a Different Light  
By Reyclou**

**Chapter 10 -- "Divergence"**

"I still can't believe you're trying to defend them," Lorne replied, raising his voice to be heard over whipping winds. Lorne, Caldwell, the colonel's small entourage and their guest-captives huddled in the open flat of a rattling ATV that, judging by the way the vehicle slipped and sloshed through the white flurry, was clearly ill-fitted for the snowstorm through which they now forcefully plowed. Ronon and Rodney sat with their backs to the cab, the latter buried in layers of stiff blankets and thermal wear until he resembled some sort of white-washed swamp creature. Rodney stared at the Marine sitting beside him with muted disdain; He wore a camo-pattern rain poncho over his gear and Rodney felt the man could not have looked more out of place. Ronon, for his part, did his best to melt into the woolen fabric draped over his shoulders, ignoring the ice crusting on the length of his beard.

"I'm not _defending,_ I'm _explaining,_" Rodney corrected loudly. "To put it simply, this enzyme makes them emotionally unstable, if not downright _erratic_. Reason loses all bearing in their basic logic."

"My point is they _choose_ to keep taking it."

Rodney made no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice. "Because they think the have to. They're probably so chemically addicted to the stuff that they think they'd die without it."

"Even so, Doctor," Caldwell began, nipping off an animated response from the Major. "It doesn't change the fact that your team is being held in floating super-fortress. We would have an easier time penetrating a Wraith Hive ship."

"Which is so not an option either," added Lorne when Rodney opened his mouth to reply.

Furious, the scientist set his jaw before turning a piercing glare on the Colonel. "In my universe, Colonel Sheppard's always gloating that the U.S. military doesn't leave its people behind."

Caldwell returned the glare with no less intensity. "In my universe, _Major _Sheppard is under the employ of the Combined Confederate Air Corps, on loan from the state of South California. He has a hard time listening to people born the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line."

Rodney raised a hand as if to wave off the colonel's point, but he could not hide the mute confusion in his own demeanor. "Spare us the geographical details, Colonel. You're confusing Ronon."

Caldwell frowned, but replied coolly, "Were it within our power to take back Atlantis, or to extract our people there, I would gladly do so. But unless other options present themselves, my first duty is to protect and save the men and women who are here _now._ Our first and foremost goal is to restore our hyperdrive and return to Earth—if there is an Earth to return to—and report back. It helps no one if we all die in an ill-planned struggle for supremacy."

The Stargate appeared then, as if striding out against the storm. Their transport slowed enough that an airmen leaped effortlessly from the cab to dial the Gate. He jogged lightly to catch up with the vehicle. A cloud passed over Caldwell's face and he calmly worked his jaw before he continued. "Nevertheless, Commander Kolya intends to make his stand against Sheppard here."

Rodney's eyes brightened. "A stand? This could be just the opportunity we need. I mean, if we all pulled together—"

"It's suicide, Doctor, which is why I insisted you two be brought to safety aboard the _Daedalus_. We've grounded the ship as a precaution, but we are all safer there than we are here."

The anger and disappointment must have registered hot on Rodney's features, though he took pains to check it. Even so, Caldwell stared at his face a long moment before sighing. "We'll discuss this later, when we're all on-board the Daedalus. Maybe then we'll all have a clearer picture of our situation."

Rodney had about a hundred thousand choice words for Caldwell and his clearer picture, but let the promise of further discussion abate his frustration for the moment. It would give him a chance to figure out what Elizabeth would say as, clearly, the petulant charms of Rodney McKay could only get him so far.

A relative silence fell over the group and Rodney felt himself shivering, more out of anticipation than temperature, as they approached the Gate. The weather on the other side could not possibly be as bad as this howling mess and he could not wait to shed his layers of blankets. The wind picked up its harsh lashing again and Rodney almost missed it when Ronon rumbled in his ear.

"What's a Maesa-dixa?"

For the first time in a long time, Rodney's mind blanked.

"I'm _Canadian_, what do I care?" the scientist snapped back, embarrassed "Ask Sheppard when we get him back." Rodney then paused to reconsider his statement, retracting it with slight wave of his hand. "Ask _Elizabeth_ when we get _her_ back."

With a lurch and a groan of the engine, the ATV passed through the glittering warble of the active Gate.…

…and into a hot, humid, driving rain. Within moments, Rodney sat sweltering beneath a pile of lead-heavy, rain-soaked blankets. When he tried to shrug them off, they slumped about him, pressing in with stubborn weight.

He frowned as the Marine beside him, the one swathed beneath the dark poncho, tried to hide a knowing smirk.

-0-

John must have been on his twenty-third pass between two opposing corners of the holding cell before Teyla's voice broke him from his brooding trance.

"She will be all right, John," she insisted coolly, brown eyes watching him with a distant wisdom. She eased her back against the steel of the Lantean cell, still nursing a tender spot on her head. "I am not entirely convinced they intend to hurt us."

"I'm not entirely convinced they _don't_ intend to hurt us," he spat back, spinning on his heels to start pass twenty-four.

Unfettered, Teyla continued in a mildly patronizing tone. "They are _ourselves_, John. We too would go to great lengths to protect what we love, but to kill those who mean you no harm? Would you go to such extremes to protect Atlantis in our reality?"

"If it meant saving everyone and everything in our universe? Yeah, I just might," John answered sharply, but something twitched in his heart. _Liar_.

Teyla raised a wry eyebrow. "I am not entirely convinced of that either."

John turned to face her, frustration in his breath. "You know what that stuff does to a person. You've experienced it first hand. We're not dealing with _rational_ human beings right now. What's more, this galaxy is nothing like the one we left—"

A sound at the door broke John's thought and the two turned to watch as the doors to the cell room parted, as did the two guards stationed on either side of the doorway. A lanky, disheveled figure emerged from the hallway beyond. Radek Zelenka grumbled as he balanced two heavy-looking packs on his bony shoulders. One guard eyed him curiously, amused by the small man's struggle with the bulky baggage. John could tell by the sweaty, restless presence of the first two men that they had enough enzyme swimming in their system to keep them hopping for days. Guarding two prisoners who preferred to pace, sit, and growl could only entertain them for so long, and the two guards seemed eager for a new distraction.

And by distraction John meant torment practice.

"'Sup, little Z?" The first guard greeted in a manner too friendly to be sincere. John could just make out the name stamped above the Marine's left breast: _Branson_.

"I'm here to observe the prisoner's condition," the small man stated bluntly, ignoring the other man's attempt at a put-down.

The other guard smiled snidely, eying Teyla with a look that made John want to gouge his eyes out. "They look fine to me," he hissed, winking at the woman's smoldering glare before turning back to Zelenka. "'Sides, last I checked you weren't no Carson Beckett."

Radek huffed indignantly, dropping a pack to the floor. "Not _medical_ condition," he insisted pointedly. "Zey're from another reality. We must know if they suffer Entropic Cascade Failure before we use zeh device."

"I don't remember nuthin' 'bout a checkup," said Branson.

"Dr. Weir and I only just considered the possibility. She asked me to arrange—"

"Look, runt," the second guard grunted, blocking Radek's way. "We don't let you in here without the Major's A'OK, see?"

Visibly annoyed, Radek touched a hand to his ear to activate an ear radio, mouth open to shoot back some blistering retort, but his finger found his ear empty and a moment of apparent confusion passed over his scruffy features. The intensity of the moment broke as he clumsily patted his chest as if looking to find a small bud stuffed between seams. Again grumbling, this time about a missing radio, Radek fumbled in his remaining pack as the two guards giggled between them. John felt almost sorry for the way the Marines laughed at the small man. Under his command, he might have assigned these twerps to a week's mess duty, but then remembered that Radek belonged to the kooky Wraith Crack Club and therefore stood absolved of all pity.

Still, couldn't really enjoy it either.

A moment later, Radek's hand met something in the pack and brief relief passed over his features. "Ah, here!" he exclaimed.

The guards shared only one last chuckle before Radek pulled free a blaster pistol and shot Branson square in the chest. A squeeze of his finger and the second Marine fell to the ground, unconscious.

Radek had the cell door swinging to sweet freedom before John even remembered to blink.

"Here, Colonel," the smaller man blurted, slinging the pack off his shoulder and tossing it to John. He caught it reflexively, his eyes glued to the downed men.

"What the hell is this?" he questioned, surprised.

"I brought you something to wear, and a few supplies, just in case," the Czech rushed, thinking he meant the pack. Radek's attention darted between the Colonel and the Marines. He pointed the gun, a massive piece not unlike the type Ronon carried, toward the slumbering men, as if expecting them to suddenly spring to life.

"I mean _this_," John pressed, waving at the Marines.

Radek stared at him. "This is a rescue," he said slowly, as though speaking to a small child.

"I get that, but what makes you think there is any chance in Hell that I'm going to trust you?. You guys don't exactly have a fantastic track record with honesty."

The gun shook nervously in Radek's hand so wildly that John doubted another shot could hit the broad side of a barn. Apparently refusal on the part of a rescuee had not factored into whatever plan the man was hatching. "As you can probably guess, I do not support Dr. Weir's policy concerning foreign reality contact."

John stared at him.

"I shot two Marines?"

"With a _stunner_, no less."

"I have a sack full of precious data and samples that I intend to smuggle to the off-world resistance, along with you and your team, at great risk to my life and limb?"

Teyla appeared at his side then, looking equally shocked, but with the first hints of salvation's grin. But John held strong. "Good luck with that."

Radek frowned and looked to John's bag hopefully. "I brought you clothes?"

Indeed, as John knelt to paw through the pack's contents, he found a pile of familiar, standard issue BDU trousers, a well-worn tee and a pair of combat boots.

"Okay, we're making progress," he replied, disinterested.

Desperate and visibly frustrated, Radek bit his lip, his mind racing for something to say, something that would convince him beyond a shadow of a doubt. John stared at him until Radek's eyes fell on the blaster in his hand. Resolutely, the scientist turned the gun in his hand, grabbing it by the barrel, and handed it to him handle first.

John hesitated briefly, but then took the gun graciously. "That'll do."

The concern in Radek's face melted into a thankful smile and, with transferring the weight of the gun to John, his shoulders eased slightly.

Teyla turned away promptly as John wasted no time in slipping into the clothes, though he took the time to pull the patches from his jacket. The stiff leather boots felt good after padding around in slipper socks all morning. Even the feel of grey ripstop against his skin made him feel _slightly_ less screwed.

That and they'd just been sprung by a blaster-wielding physicist who didn't take kindly to short jokes.

"We do not have much time," Radek pressed, hefting his first disregarded pack back onto his shoulders as John and Teyla quickly scrambled from the cell. "I've pre-programmed the Stargate to automatically dial out to a safe planet, but we must get to the Gate room before word of this reaches Security."

John's head shot up. "What, leave? Without Elizabeth?"

Eyes widening, Radek glanced around the cell room, counting only two captives.

He cursed himself loudly.

John gave him a pitying look. "You've never done this hero stuff before, have you?"

"No," Radek muttered, shaking his head.

John nodded knowingly. "Just show us where they are, we can spring her and be on our way in no time."

This time, Radek's eyes shot open with panicked surprise. "No, Colonel, we cannot! You have no idea what you're—"

"Up against? Radek, look who you're talking to and tell me I have no idea who I'm dealing with. If we don't get out now—and I mean ALL of us—we're not gonna get a second shot."

"Colonel, we can't. If she's with _him_, she'll be too well-guarded. All zeh security forces in the city are on zeh enzyme!"

"It's all or none, Radek."

Again, the scientist looked near to steaming from the ears. He pulled the bag too him, stuffing it in the crook of his arm with resolute force and straightening with a bitter finality.

"Oh, come on, then!" he huffed, and sprang for the door.

-0-

Words failed Elizabeth as Major Sheppard led her down the long Lantean hallway. A heavy numbness shadowed her every thought and Elizabeth found it difficult to concentrate. It wasn't that she feared for her person—despite the eccentric effect of the Wraith Serum on his already unconventional personality, Elizabeth could still see within him the little things that made him _John_. Even so, being flanked by two Marines on top of the brooding, grumbling major did not set her mind at ease either.

In truth, though, she was tired. Woefully tired, actually. A part of her welcomed the idea of a cell; at least there she could sit down and swim through the tide of contradicting emotions, contradicting reasons swirling about her mind. She'd been trained to think on her feet—as all great negotiators must—but she couldn't place a single negotiator that had found himself tossed into an inside-out galaxy to argue with his own side about the ethics of war.

Nor had she ever anticipated holding herself for ransom.

God was this place giving her a headache.

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose as they entered the transport, the Marines blocking the door way. A dull flash of light and the doors opened again. Mechanically, the Marines stepped out into the hall, almost tripping over Radek Zelenka.

They were on the floor and sprawling before Elizabeth registered the blaster shots.

Suddenly, the John Sheppard of the lieutenant colonel variety stood at the door, a smirk on his face and a blaster in his hand.

"Morning," John smiled and tugged the trigger.

Elizabeth had but only a moment to blink before the world went dark.

-0-

Teyla had never seen a human being move so fast as Major Sheppard. John had him so close, the shot could not help but hit, yet in the blink of time it took the colonel to fire, the major ducked out of the way, sending the colonel's bolt straight at Elizabeth. She slumped forward, falling awkwardly onto the back of an unconscious Marine.

Surprise horror bloomed on John's face and his eyes lingered on Elizabeth a second to long and the Major moved.

Like a boulder he hurled forward, knocking John to the ground. As their bodies twisted together, he tried to knock the gun from the colonel's hand. John held strong, but choked back a cry that only came with bruised and broken bones. Growling, the major rolled onto his back and suddenly John was airborne and sailing across the corridor, where he slammed into a wall. This time he could not hold back the cry of pain.

In a flash of movement, the major slipped to his feet, holding his own gun at the colonel.

This time, Teyla moved. Limbs striking in a swift dance of desperation, she knocked his gun arm away. The major's grip tightened and the gun went off at a wild angle. Teyla heard calls and outbursts from down the corridors, but did not let them distract her, focusing her sole attention on the major.

He struck at her first before taking aim, but she matched the blow and kicked the his gun hand. She felt something snap underfoot and the gun dropped away. Still, the major recovered with an elbow, a hook, a slide and strike. Teyla met his blows but his sheer brutality weakened her quickly. He, on the other hand, didn't feel her heaviest hits. He was fast too, no recovery time, and she waning faster by the second.

An unforeseen blow took her across the chin and she was jarred aside. Before she could react, she took a knee to the gut and an elbow from overhead. Her body tensed, bracing itself involuntarily. In her blurring vision she saw the major reel back for a bone crushing blow, a blur of black and flesh against the glowing hall.

Then a resounding KA-SCREECH filled the hall and the major went limp.

Teyla blinked. Her vision cleared. The major lay on the ground before her, unconscious. John slumped against the far wall, gun aloft and breathing heavily. Radek stood in the safety of a doorway to another hall, but now moved to help the colonel.

John nodded to her. "Thanks."

She managed only a meager smile.

"Quickly!" Radek urged, stooping to pull the colonel to his feet. John arose, perhaps too quickly, and stumbled to the doorway for support.

Nodding, Teyla turned to check Elizabeth.

And ducked a glint blast of blue energy. Farther down the hall, she saw men sighting her with their weapons—only a few held stunners.

It seemed she had misjudged the major's resolve.

The hallway exploded with the ring of gunfire.

In as swift a motion as she could manage while dodge the blasts and fire, she threw herself toward the transport. Tugging at Elizabeth's ankles, she pulled the woman to safety within. She saw the colonel's blanched face across the hall as Radek stuffed shoved him backward into the hall. John protested, moving to take a position at the door.

She knew what he was thinking. The security force hadn't seen him in the hallway; he had the element of surprise. He would shoot down the enemy and join them at the transport. Simple as that.

But then, she also knew what he wasn't thinking -- about their one gun against a half dozen, or hefting Elizabeth between them, or the greater chances of two versus the falling chances of four.

She made the decision for him.

"Go!" she called out, pulling Elizabeth's arm over her shoulder.

John glared at her with blazing defiance.

She nudged a spot on the transport display, not particularly caring to where it led. "Go," she called again, and a pulse of light enveloped her.

-0-

John stared, cursing, at the empty transport that had, up until moments ago, held Teyla Emmagan and Elizabeth Weir.

"Dammit, Teyla!" he hissed under his breath.

_We could do it together_, he reasoned with himself. _Share her between us; it wouldn't slow us down if we're careful. 'Cept now we gotta find each other again._

Radek tugged him a few steps back from the main hall. Ancient doors swished closed, sealing them away. "Colonel, we must go."

John wheeled on the smaller man. "We're not leaving without the girls!"

"Colonel, we have no time!"

"Radek, I can't leave them behind."

"The Major knows that!" Radek barked, his small form trembling with the force of his ragged breaths. This whole fiasco had clearly scared the hell out of him. "He knows and he has not hesitated to use it against you!"

John tried to shoot back a demanding reply, but he caught something in the scientist's eye. A look of knowing mixed with the fear.

"That's was the plan all along, wasn't it?" he breathed

Radek nodded sadly and John struck the wall with his fist.

That had been the plan from the start, always one apart—to keep one away so that they had no chance to act as a group. They could have split them up from the start, but then that would have been obvious, wouldn't it? And surely one member would not leave without the other.

He immediately saw the flaws in the plan. It relied on the prisoners never catching on, and secondly that they possessed neither the means nor the balls to regroup should a chance at escape present itself—two problems which only extreme stupidity or blistering arrogance could overlook. He had to admit the plan _was_ out of the box; more over, he _had_ fallen for the whole charade hook, line and sinker. Hell, they'd even capitalized on their shared image (and a few borrowed clothes) to coax intel information from his team.

He heard footsteps outside the doors. The guards hadn't seen him enter the hall. For all he knew, they still thought they ran as a group. That was what Teyla was doing, playing the decoy so that he and Radek could make a clean getaway.

He stared at the closed doors, knowing he had precious little time before someone wised up and came looking for all of them. He heard them calling for help for their downed men.

He looked to Radek, who still shook with anxiety. He tried to imagine what the major would do to him when he learned of his betrayal—that is, if John didn't get him out of here.

The thought of Radek falling from the central tower to the ocean below came to his mind with such vivid intensity that it almost caught his breath.

"Please, Colonel."

John looked to the doorway one last time.

_It's only leaving them behind if you don't come back_, John thought to himself.

And if he had to fly his own frigging city through the Ancient Device, he was coming back for them.

"Let's go."

-0-

"It's doing what?" Dr. Weir blurted as she stormed into the Control Room. The whole deck fell to confusion before the lighting symbols of the Stargate.

"The Gate just started dialing itself," replied a tech, pointing at the glowing DHD. "We can't, stop it. We've been locked out of the controls."

Weir's attention went instinctively to her radio. "Major!"

"No good," the tech responded. "Sergeant Bates reported Sheppard's team down less than five minutes ago. No one is responding from the detention center."

"Lock down the city. Lock it down _now_."

"We can't with the controls frozen We can't even access the citywide life signs."

"Dammit," Weir growled, glancing over the open Gate Room below. "Get more men down there. Double the guard on all entrances."

The young tech responded with a quick "Yes, ma'am" but even as he accessed the mic to make the call, the seventh chevron lit and locked. The floor rumbled ominously as the rush of a bubbling wormhole sprung from the gate. A door on the far end slid open and two men dashed out and headed straight for the Gate, drawing the attention--and the firepower--of all gathered within the Gate room.

The conflict did not last long, pehaps a matter of seconds, before Colonel Sheppard and Radek Zelenka dove into the vast expanse of light that led them far, far away from Atlantis.

Weir growled and slammed a fist onto a control panel after the Gate darkened and the wormhole disintegrated into nothingness. A cold venom frosted her voice as she turned her anger on the men and women around her. "Get those controls working and _find the rest of them!_"


	11. Shifting

**Author's Note: **Seriously, if there is anyone still following this after six years, you deserve a cupcake.

**Stargate Atlantis: Drawn to a Different Light **

**By Reyclou**

**Chapter 11 - "Shifting"**

Teyla intentionally kept to the most damaged parts of the city, where power seemed unreliable and, hopefully, the city's sensors too. Unfortunately, without communications or map interfaces to guide her, she had to rely on her memory of her own Atlantis to get around. Even so, every hall, every turn, looked like the last, differing only in the battle scars and blast damage marring their once elegant form. It had worked, so far, but she was growing tired and the dead parts of the city were growing cold as night set in.

Her arms ached with the strain of supporting the weight of another human body, but she didn't slow down until she found herself in a darkened sector of the city where the architecture cast deep shadows. Until she could figure a way out of the city, she had to find a place to rest, if only for a few hours. They needed food, too, if the ache in her stomach was any indication. Out in the forest or untamed lands of the galaxy, she could keep the two of them alive and safe for weeks—indefinitely even, with fertile resources and good shelter—but Atlantis, for all its beauty and majesty, had no edible weeds, wild berries or wildlife. It was unlikely the food supplies here would be easily procured. She knew John had escaped and considered being willfully recaptured as a tactic, but her pride refused. If they wanted her, they would have to find her. Any kindness left in their alternate counterparts had clearly long since faded.

Teyla's head throbbed as she analyzed the desperation of their situation. So intent was she that she jumped as the softest of sounds echoed down the hall. Teyla immediately perked up, ears open and breaths shallow. Slowly she slid Elizabeth to the ground.

_Scuff._

_Scuff._

_Scuff-scuff._

In perfect silence, she readied her weapon and ever-so-carefully gazed out from the shadows. Something moved and, in one fluid motion, Teyla lunged around the corner, bringing her weapon up, aiming it right between two bright and fearful eyes of a young Athosian boy.

"Jinto?" she whispered in surprise.

"Teyla," he breathed, trying to hide the fear in his voice. He stood perfectly still, even as she saw the will to run in his eyes. Yet he stayed, face toward her, and pleaded, "Please, do not shoot! I can help you."

Every fiber of her character rebuked her for drawing a weapon against her own people.

_These are not my _people, she consciously reminded herself. "I am not that Teyla."

"No, you are Teyla. The old Teyla, like the one we lost to the Madness of the Ancestor's City. You came out of the Ring of the Ancestors and now they hunt you. Please, come with me, I can help you!"

"I do not think so," she replied as she studied the boy. He was nervous, clearly, but it wasn't the unsettled energy of someone on the enzyme, rather, an honest, if subtle, fear and excitement.

Jinto took her pause as an invitation. "Please, Teyla, you must believe me. You must come with me now. There are others left in the city who will help you."

Somewhere a ways down the hall, a door swished open to the trampling of boots.

Teyla stared at the boy, debating for but a heartbeat before she grudgingly allowed Jinto to lead her away, pausing only to hoist Elizabeth's arm back over her shoulder.

Stomping strides followed them down the hall, around the corner, and past another bank of blown out windows. Her heartbeat doubled when she heard the crunch of glass beneath her feet. Another corner and the three turned down a hall so dark that Teyla instinctively went for a flashlight, but bodies loomed up beside her and hands grabbed her before she could reach it.

Weight and weariness had made her slow, and her fumbling attempts to fend off hands – further hampered by Elizabeth's body – equaled only a half-hearted resistance.

"Quiet! And calm your struggling!" scolded an Athosian voice.

"Please, Teyla! Do as they say!" Jinto urged.

She felt Elizabeth's weight lifted from her shoulders as she herself was stuffed through a door to the side. Before she could protest, someone pressed a cloak about her shoulders. Elizabeth, recognized only by the fruity scent of the curls that brushed Teyla's face, was quickly laid beside her.

Outside, she heard scuffling, glass crackling as it was crushed beneath heavy boots. A few deep notes sounded as words passed outside. The door was roughly shoved open and a flashlight beam passed around the room. However, the man holding the light apparently did not see what he expected, as he cursed loudly and, by the sound of booming footfalls, took off running down the hall.

Long moments passed before another spoke—and then it was all at once. Someone stoked a fire and brought the light up. She could now make out faces—Halling, Charin, Jinto, and others—and the lurch of nostalgia almost choked her.

_These are not my people_, she reminded herself and squared her jaw—until Halling looked at her with such an expression of profound awe that she could not help but ease her muscles a little.

"Surely you are spared by the Ancestors," Halling said, smiling. "Ease your worries. We sent the soldiers chasing two of our swiftest runners. Those heavy foots will be long lost and starving hungry before they even catch a shadow!"

Charin pushed a bow of dried fruits and meats into her hands before turning to warm a bowl of soup. Teyla's stomach rumbled at the hearty smell and her skin tingled at the warmth of the fire so that she had to smile to keep from crying. Her head warned that all this was very likely just another trick—another way to lure her into false security, into somehow playing into some wicked manipulation. She knew so very little about this Atlantis and what she did know was infected with lies and insanity. After all, what could possibly play with her emotions more than the voices of her own people calling out in desperation from an aching city? And yet these did not cry out, rather, they honored her as a friend thought lost but now returned home safe and sound. Despite their conditions, they retained a quiet dignity in their air and manner that spoke sincerity across the division of their destinies.

No, these were not her people, but they were quickly becoming her friends.

o0o

Major Sheppard quietly fumed as a nurse applied a soft cast to his wrist. Effort almost entirely wasted, by his measure. The hand would heal soon enough; living down the insult, that would take time. With nearly all military personnel fortified by the enzyme, injuries and illness largely fell into one of two categories: fatal and negligible, except for his current injury which was embarrassing and inexcusable. He chalked his poor performance up to the fact that acting like his infantile former self meant taking weaker doses of the enzyme. He had been worn and weakened when they jumped him. Simple as that.

The sight of himself all suited up like the day he walked through that damn gate for the first time—it disgusted him. Like the sharp memory of momentary mistake instantly regretted but never quite forgotten or forgiven, that uniform had come to symbolize everything that was ridiculous about his involvement in the expedition. He'd long believed he should have never come. He had convinced himself that, had he never set foot through the gate, the expedition would have been infinitely better off, existing for years in relative peace and secrecy. Then to suddenly come face to face with himself, action hero and savior of a glittering city where lives burned and broken in his own world carried on untainted somewhere out there—it sparked a kind of rage somewhere deep within, a confirmation that, somehow, he wasn't even worthy of his own name.

But this was getting him nowhere.

He looked around the makeshift infirmary—really just another hold-in-the-wall room of Atlantis that housed what was recoverable of the medical equipment, what wasn't used for enzyme distilment, anyway. Between the siege and the long war since, the infirmary was closer to a large pantry than a medical bay. Sensing the major's deepening brood, the nurse obediently finished wrapping, set down a measured dose of the enzyme already set inside a needle and slipped away as Dr. Weir sailed in through a sliding door.

She opened her mouth to give an update, but he cut her off, "We're handling this my way."

Dr. Weir rolled her eyes. "There's your way of handling a situation and then there's the smart way of handling a situation."

Sheppard mechanically followed the process of sticking himself with the prepped needle. "I'm done with the smoke and mirrors, Doctor. We are on one side, the rest of the galaxy, apparently, is on the other. It's time we make it clear that if they are not helping us, then they're in our way and nothing is going to get between me and the complete eradication of every last Wraith in this miserable galaxy so long as there is breath in my lungs." Needle empty, he tossed it back onto a nearby tray, rose to his full height and made to storm off, but Dr. Weir held firm.

"And if I told you that you could do it all in one shot?"

The major turned back to her expectantly.

"That Genii complex we've been looking for," Dr. Weir continued. "It's on the same planet as the Ancient device; the Genii have had control of it for some time, they just didn't know what they had until now. Now that it's been activated, we can't chance the Genii making use of it." She lifted an eyebrow. "How's that for two birds, one stone?"

The major's eyes narrowed as he considered this, "I want all Jumpers armed to the teeth and ready to move out ASAP."

o0o

Zelenka lead Colonel Sheppard almost wordlessly through a series of gates that easily bounced from one end of the galaxy to the other and back again before they finally stepped out of a gate into a dense, jungle-like atmosphere.

A firing squad met them, weapons raised, and Sheppard sensed more than saw snipers situated in the trees, beads drawn his vital organs. Sheppard immediately assumed a non-threatening pose as Zelenka scampered forward to confer with an officer standing behind the squad line. Moments later an airman slowly came forward with a frankly ridiculous collection of cuffs and shackles and Sheppard felt more than a little annoyed at the satisfaction with which the airman snapped and secured the trappings—not that he didn't understand all the precaution—but he was getting a little tired of playing prisoner.

A moment later the world around him flashed white and he suddenly stood not in a jungle, but a holding cell on what was unmistakably the Daedalus.

"Liar, liar, leather pants on fire!" Sheppard grumbled, still more than a little mad at himself for falling for Dr. Weir's story.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, I presume?"

Sheppard turned to see the familiar figure of Colonel Caldwell outside his cell.

Flippantly, he offered, "Colonel Caldwell, I presume?"

Unmoved, Caldwell continued emotionlessly, "I trust you'd consent to a blood test to confirm you aren't who you say you aren't?"

"Something tells me I don't really have a choice."

"At the moment, shooting you is still an option."

"Then I guess bring on the needles and grape juice," Sheppard smiled patronizingly.

Caldwell turned to leave, instructing that someone would be by shortly. Another door slid open to allow him to leave and Sheppard caught sight of the Satedan and the Canadian standing just outside. Sheppard had a hard time containing his surprise.

"Ronon? Rodney?"

Caldwell grudgingly nodded his assent on the basis that they were the two most qualified to discern it wasn't the lieutenant colonel and the two men dashed in as Caldwell stepped out. Despite the exchange, the events of the day left Colonel Sheppard more than a little suspicious and it took quite some time after sharing their sides of the adventure before he could consent to believe these were truly his members from his team.

"I hate it here," Rodney whined. "Canada is only, like, half a country here."

"McKay, Canada isn't a real country where we come from either," Sheppard snipped in a sort of testing playfulness.

The scientist glared back, "You know what, remind me to never save your life again."

"Deal, but only if we get Elizabeth and Teyla out of that place."

"Do you think they'll really hurt them?" Rodney questioned.

"Hard to say. The…" Colonel Sheppard searched for the right word, but couldn't find it. "The people over there, they're definitely us, but the enzyme has so messed with their heads, I'm not really sure what they're capable of, but from what I've seen, I think it's safe to say they're taking the kid gloves off. We're going to need serious help."

Rodney and Ronon shared a look. "Well," Rodney began. "The good news is that there is someone who may be willing to help."

The colonel tilted his head suspiciously, "And the bad news?"

"You won't want him to."


End file.
